


These Blooming Hearts

by terianoen



Series: Of Werewolves [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hermione Granger Bashing, Hurt Harry, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Protective Draco Malfoy, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Remus Lupin Bashing, Rimming, Ron Weasley Bashing, Trust Issues, Werewolf Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-05-19 14:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 73,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19359253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terianoen/pseuds/terianoen
Summary: Sequel to These Broken Moons. After Dumbledore’s death and Harry’s near-death experience, Draco has convinced Harry to pursue a relationship with him and Severus is now revealed to everyone as a traitor against The Dark Lord. However, even though Hogwarts is safely out of Voldemort’s hands, Harry’s job as The-Golden-Boy is not yet complete. He must finish the task Dumbledore set for him and destroy Voldemort, all while learning that touching is not to feared and that perhaps to love again would not destroy him.





	1. Old Emotions Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sequel to These Broken Moons. It's much more oriented toward defeating Voldemort than These Broken moons and the plot is going to be moving quite a bit quicker. However, there's also going to be a lot with Harry learning to trust and that to love is ok. I really don't plan on going too in depth with the rape recovery though it will be touched on. There will be sexual encounters and details about Lucius and Severus' relationship, though this will be more focused on Harry and Draco's relationship. Horcruxes do exist in this universe. There's also going to be a bit of Draco coming to terms with being a werewolf. I didn't go for the canon werewolf, just what was convenient for the story.

"Is that what you wanted to hear, Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked, and he heard his own voice echo around him, cold and low and full of anger that he didn't feel. He saw Draco shiver and he tried to summon up the anger, he did, but all he felt was a horrible sort of emptiness. He shoved Draco away from him, and somewhere, somehow, he felt a pang go through him for the gentle touch he'd shared with Draco before. Which was wrong, so _wrong_.

He was turning to leave when he heard Draco's voice. It was soft at first, too low for him to make out. Harry didn't stop, couldn't allow himself to stop. And then Draco spoke again, strong and urging, and Harry's feet were still before he could process what he was doing, and he could feel Draco's heat right behind him, his voice whispering in his ear.

He hesitated, reveling in the feeling, in the warmth the closeness seemed to give him before he realized just how close they actually were. He turned, scrambling away from Draco, who just continued to talk as if nothing had happened.

"Do you have any idea how I felt when you immobilized me?" he asked, and Harry's back hit a wall, cutting off what little escape there had been. Draco just kept coming, his silver-grey eyes locking Harry in place more effectively than the wall ever could.

"Watching everything and not being able to do anything was torture. And the things Voldemort said to you, I wanted to kill him for even thinking about touching you," he said it like it made perfect sense. And Harry supposed to him, it must have. To Draco, life and fire and anger were easy to come by. Easy to hold.

"I didn't for a second think you were useless or dirty or pathetic. And don't you dare stand there and tell me what you think I want to hear," he said, and Harry blinked hard, feeling that unmistakable heat behind his eyes that he'd used to think he'd never feel again. It was strange, once his body seemed to accept the idea that it could cry again, it was as if the flood gates had opened. Draco stepped forward again, his hands coming up to rest on the wall along either side of Harry's head, and his face so close Harry would only need to push his face just a little bit forward...

"So, why don't you stop pushing me away and give me a chance to prove it?" Draco asked, his hot breath blowing across Harry's face.

He swallowed; he should want to run away, to close his eyes and feel nauseated as he'd always done when someone looked at him like that, but- He couldn't bring himself to feel anything but a burning desire to press his lips forward and finally understand how Draco's mouth would taste. And that… that scared him more than he would ever admit.

"Ok," he answered. He didn't know what he expected. Maybe for Draco to pat him on the shoulder and turn away, maybe he'd have a satisfied smile.

It was nothing compared to look Draco gave him.

His eyes lit up to pure molten silver filled with joy and something Harry would have said was adoration if he didn't know better. And Draco's lips were curled up into the widest smile he'd ever seen, much less directed at him. And then he was lowering his head, his lips hovering an inch from Harry's, hesitating.

Harry lifted his face, meeting Draco halfway and pressing their lips together, mouths tightly closed. He didn't know what he was doing, or why he was doing it, but he knew it felt fitting in a way precious little had ever felt in his life. And he just couldn't find it in himself to care about right or wrong anymore.

~~3 Days Later~~

"You want us to ignore everything you've done?" Scrimgeour said. He had that look on his face, that look of demanding retribution for crimes that Severus just couldn't—wouldn't pay for. He had spent enough time hating himself for the choices he'd made. He simply couldn't afford to stand here and argue with a man he owed nothing to about debts he had already paid.

"Talk of ignoring whatever you want," Severus answered. "Dumbledore left me in charge of Hogwarts, and I will continue to run it until you actually have something to arrest me with." Scrimgeour scowled, but Severus was in no mood to humor him. "Now, if you've nothing else to say."

"Rest assured, Snape," Scrimgeour answered, already turning toward the fireplace. If Severus admired one thing about the man, it was that he knew when to leave. "The day will come when I do find something to send you to Azkaban with," Then he was throwing a handful of floo powder into the fire, calling out 'The Ministry', and stepping through.

Once he was gone, Severus sighed heavily and dropped into the chair behind Dumbledore's—his—desk. It was his office now. Dumbledore was dead. Severus had killed him, and this was  _his_  office him. He sighed again, raising his hands to run fingers through greasy black hair.

It had barely been a week since the Dark Lord's attack, and Dumbledore's subsequent death. The Ministry was on Severus' heels with accusations surrounding Dumbledore's death, and Severus' true alliances, but they couldn't really touch him because there had been too much evidence that Severus had fought the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters that same night. Still, he knew it was only a matter of time before Scrimgeour nailed him for something. Catching Death Eaters was what the man was known for after all.

Severus looked up when he heard a knock on the door, three soft raps with a single knuckle. Severus sat up straight in his chair, pushing his hair back behind his ears. He wanted to be alone, to not have to put on his mask and hold himself back, but then Severus had hardly ever gotten what he wanted.

"Come in, Lucius," Severus called, and Lucius pushed the door open before crossing the room and sitting lightly in the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk. He looked at Severus' face for a long moment, crossing his legs and shifting in his seat. Whatever he found didn't seem to please him, if the frown that touched his lips was anything to go by.

"I take it the Ministry meeting didn't go well."

"Of course not. Scrimgeour won't let this go, not now that he's got his teeth in."

"You'd think anyone with half a brain would know to leave you alone by now," Lucius answered, the area around his eyes tightening minutely.

"Yes, well, you know Scrimgeour. Just because he's Minister now, doesn't mean he'll give anything up without a fight," Severus sighed. "It just makes him that much more likely to succeed."

"True," Lucius' lips curled in barely concealed disgusted. "I never liked the man." Severus was silent; there was no real answer. Lucius already knew his opinion on the matter; there was no point restating it. They sat in silence for several minute, Severus' eyes firmly set on the desk in front of him. He could feel Lucius looking at him, but he didn't look up. There wasn't a point.

"You know," Lucius said finally. "I could make it go away. I still have quite a bit of influence in the Ministry."

"You mean you could blackmail and pay people off."

"If that's what you want to call it," Lucius answered, not bothering to hide the bite in his words. Severus sighed.

"Perhaps if he becomes a problem."

"It's already a problem, Severus," Lucius' eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, placing his one hand on the desk as he stared. "Why don't you let me help you?"

"I can handle this," he answered, and Lucius' lips twisted at the blatant lie between them. Severus just turned his head away. He was tired, tired of arguing with Lucius about things that would never change.

They had spent the past three days together, careful, touching and talking and yet, not. Lucius had done nothing more than kiss him, and Severus was not about to ask for more. And when they  _had_ spoken, it had been the same stilted conversation it had always been. Both too afraid to say too much, to give too much away.

"Why do you lie?" Lucius asked, and his voice was that innocent tread again. Open and full of emotion as he stared and just for a second, Severus could believe he was everything to Lucius the way Lucius was to Severus.

"Who says I lie?"

"I say," Lucius answered, and Severus recognized that look in his silver eyes. The one that fell when Severus had yanked too far back, had asked for too much, had reminded Lucius that he had hurt him before, and they were both sure he would do it again. The look that said Lucius was angry; Lucius was angry, and he was looking to lash out the only way he knew how. "All you do it lie. You ask me to stay and then you act as if I am some kind of burden. You kiss me but then flinch away when I try to touch you," Lucius' lip twisted in a mocking sneer. "If you truly wanted nothing to do with me, you could have said, instead of pretending this  _farce_." There was a beat before Severus spoke again.

The past three days had been bliss for Severus. It was better than he could ever have hoped to have Lucius looking at him and only him—It was almost good enough to make him forget how quickly it would end.

Honestly, Severus was surprised it had lasted three days.

"Rest assured," Severus answered. "If I was capable of staying away from you, I would have already done it." Lucius' eyebrows furrowed, and he stared as if his words didn't make sense, though Severus didn't know how that could possibly be true.

"Severus, I-," Lucius started. Of course, that was when someone else knocked on his door. Three loud bands as if he were afraid no one would answer. Harry.

* * *

Harry was bored, though he spent most of his days bored, so he didn't know why he was complaining now. Ever since Severus had taken over as headmaster, he'd been busy running the school, and Lucius was busy teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions now that Severus only had time to teach a few high-level classes. Frankly, Harry figured they both must have been running on will alone.

He was sitting in Gryffindor common room, listening to Granger and Weasley bicker about something that was doubtless important to them. They'd stopped asking him what he thought a long time ago; he didn't even know why he bothered to sit with them anymore. Dumbledore had always said appearances needed to be kept, and Harry had always been too tired to argue.

But he was beginning to be tired of being tired.

He supposed he could seek out Draco out. He could bother the pure-blood until he was no longer bored, but he hesitated. After Harry had kissed him on the Astronomy tower, Draco had seemed reluctant to touch him again. The few times they'd been to together, Draco had seemed distracted, nervous, unwilling to come too close, and Harry was wondering if Draco was truly as busy as he seemed or if Harry had done something wrong. Perhaps he had read the situation incorrect, and Draco hadn't wanted him like _that_. Perhaps he hadn't wanted Harry to kiss him, and he was trying to think up a suitable way to let him down.

He couldn't find it in himself to blame Draco; he wished he could, but the anger just wouldn't come like it used to.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He stood and left the common room, not even bothering to make an excuse to Granger and Weasley. They didn't ask him what he was doing anyway. They never did anymore. He walked out of the portrait, and trekked down the hall, making a few turns without really having a destination in mind. He supposed he should go to the library, read a few more books, see if he could find more information. But he had found nothing every time he looked, and it was becoming tedious when nothing was to come of it.

"Harry!" a voice called behind him. He froze at the sound, his lips twisting in disgust before he could really stop them. There were only a few people who called him by that name, and even fewer who he tolerated to do so. Remus Lupin was not one of them. He turned to face the other man, narrowing his eyes to stare at the innocent expression. "What are you doing wandering around so late?"

"I would ask how that's your business, but frankly I don't want to hear whatever nonsense you're going to come up with," he answered, and Lupin pursed his lips. He looked offended, but a least he was smart enough not to say anything.

"I came for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position," Lupin said, smiling as he tried to engage Harry again. "The Order thought it was best to have someone monitoring Hogwarts."

"You mean, besides Me? And Severus, and McGonagall, and Hagrid?"

"You know what I mean," Lupin answered, his smile tightening just a little too much to be comfortable. Harry wasted half a second wondering why the man bothered; it wasn't as if he was fooling anymore.

"Well," he turned away from Lupin, fulling intending to continue down the hall. "Have fun with that."

"Harry, wait," Lupin was suddenly there, his hand on Harry's arm, holding him back. "I wanted-." Harry wrenched away from him, his arm tingling unpleasantly where Lupin had touched him. And for half a second, all he could see was a meaty face, hands, snake eyes, taunting lips drawn thin and holding him down. He glared; Lupin was just as guilty, just as dirty as them.

"Don't touch me."

"Harry, you can't-."

"And don't say my name," Harry answered, his eyes narrowed as he stared hard at Lupin. The man stepped back, holding his hand out as he seemed to realize the depth of Harry's anger. And Harry reveled in it. He reveled in his anger rising up and burning in his lungs as he stared at Lupin.

For a while, Harry would have done anything to rid himself of the anger that pulsed through his body and made it hard to breathe. But then, it had gone. It had left him trembling and hollow. It wasn't that he wasn't capable of feeling angry; he did. He was almost always bitter and angry, but it came with the tired sweep of his bones and that hollow quivering in the pit of his stomach.

And now, now Harry was _only_ angry. He didn't have to push or pretend as he stared at Lupin and that felt... freeing.

"You know what?" he decided. "I will accompany you to the headmaster's office."

"That's not what I meant."

"Don't care," Harry answered, turning and moving in the direction of the headmaster's office. He knew without looking Lupin would follow him.

"So, Harry-."

"No."

"But-."

"I don't want to talk to you. Frankly, I don't even want to look at your face, but I'll settle for not hearing your voice," he said. Lupin was silent the rest of the way. It was almost a pleasant walk.

Harry stopped in front of the gargoyle statue that marked the entrance to the headmaster's office, sparing not even a moment of thought before he muttered the password and watched the gargoyle move to allow the staircase to open before them.

"How do you know the password?" Lupin asked him.

"Yes."

"What?"

"Yes, I know the password."

"That doesn't even make sense," Lupin sighed as they began to climb, and Harry resisted the urge to smile at his grumbling tone.

He hesitated before knocking on Severus' office door. He could tell by the voices inside that Lucius was there. He wasn't exactly sure what was happening between them, but he could tell from Severus's continued distress that he didn't like it, and he could tell from what Lucius had said, that he didn't understand why. Frankly, Harry was getting tired of hearing about Lucius' relationship problems.

Lupin moved an inch closer, and Harry decided he simply couldn't stand being this close to him any longer. He knocked on the door and listened as the voices silenced inside.

"Enter."

Harry opened the door and walked in, Lupin close on his heels. Severus caught Lupin's look and straightened in his seat, a heavy scowl crossing his face.

"Remus Lupin, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Ah, Severus," Lupin answered, moving further into the room. "I was hoping to speak to you about a teaching position."

"Oh? Last I remember you weren't very adept at potions, Lupin."

"I'm here about Defense Against the Dart Arts."

"That position is filled."

"Severus, do be reasonable," Lupin sighed.

"I don't think you're listening, wolf," Lucius said. He had his body turned toward Lupin, his legs crossed with his hands resting atop his cane as if he were perfectly relaxed. And Harry wondered why he bothered when he was obviously upset. "The position is taken, by me, in fact."

"Severus," Lupin answered, twisting his head away to focus back on Severus. "You and I both know you're in a tight spot. I can help you."

"I'm not sure what you're insinuating," Severus narrowed his eyes.

"The Ministry is at your back, you have a rogue werewolf as a student, you're a known Death Eater, and you have a known Death Eater on your staff. There's no Dumbledore to protect you anymore," Lupin said, and Harry resisted the urge to snort. As if Dumbledore had done much of that for any of them.

"And what do you think you could do?" Lucius asked, one pale eyebrow raising.

"I could at least get the Order off your back, and maybe stop some of the rumors about Draco being out of control. At the very least, with an older werewolf here, the Order will have to admit that he's more in control. I'd like to help you if you'll just let me."

"I'd like to cast a few cruciatus curses and toss you to the bottom of a pit somewhere, but nobody lets me do that," Harry answered, leaning against the wall as the room turned to stare at him.

"That's not helpful, Potter," Lucius said. Harry just shrugged.

"Why would you want to help us, Lupin?" Severus asked, ignoring Harry completely. Lupin blinked once before turning back to him, seeming to make an active effort to compose himself.

"I…" his eyes flicked to Harry. "I believe that this is what Dumbledore wanted to happen. I believe that to defeat Voldemort we need to trust people we may not have normally trusted." He looked pointedly at Lucius before focusing back to Severus. "You need my help."

Severus stared at him for a long moment before he sighed, his lips twisting with something close to annoyance. He finally nodded, his fingers clamping down on the edge of the table. Lucius' hand tightened on his cane, but he said nothing against Severus' decision. Harry made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, cuffed his foot against the ground, and made a mental note to skip Lupin's class for the rest of the year.

"You'll take up Defense Against the Dark Arts; Lucius will teach Potions," Severus said. "Though if you step one foot out of line, Lupin, we'll know, understand?" Lupin had the dignity to say nothing as he nodded.

"Well," Harry pushed away from his wall, stepping subtly toward the door. "I'll be going now," he turned, pulling the door open.

He heard Lupin call after him, but Severus must have done something because the room was quiet behind him, allowing Harry to slip out and go back down the stairs. He moved away from Severus' office, heading for the library without really thinking about it. He had already wasted enough time, time spent with Draco, talking to Lucius, watching Severus, and dragging Lupin around. He paused outside the library, pulling his wand out of the sheath along his waist. He was allowed a lot of freedom inside Hogwarts, but that freedom did not extend to the library.

" _Accio_  invisibility cloak," he called, and waited until the shimmering invisibility cloak landed in his hand. His lips twisted as he felt the thing; he hated it. He hated the reminder that his parents were dead—just a few more people to add to the list of those that had left him.

Harry slipped the cloak over his shoulders before creeping into the library, moving automatically to the history section. Voldemort had used one founder of Hogwarts' heirloom; Harry had a fair idea what he else he might use. He pulled a book down, examining it for a moment before setting it back on the shelf. The problem was that none of the books seemed inclined to tell him anything he didn't already know, which wasn't exactly helpful.

Dumbledore had left him with the word Horcruxes, and somehow expected Harry to come up with the rest. Sure, he'd destroyed one, and Harry had destroyed another in his second year. Dumbledore had even told Harry that he himself was a Horcrux, if that could be counted as helping, but there were at least four more.

He sighed, stepping back from the shelf as he drew another book down. He hated this, this horrible sense of duty. It had always been his job to stop Voldemort, since before he had even know the name. But he had somehow thought that dying would alleviate that duty, fulfill it in a way he'd never wanted to. Which was of course why it didn't work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone!


	2. Together or Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco sees a different side of Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I only have this story mostly done as apposed to done, I'll only be updating on Tuesdays and Fridays as apposed to breakneck speak I posted These Broken Moons. I hope everyone enjoys and continues to read!

Harry was staring at him. Though for the past few days, Harry had always been staring at him, his green eyes dark and full of some emotion Draco couldn't understand. Every time Draco asked though, Harry had responded with a suspicious 'no' and an unconvincing look in his eyes.

"Shouldn't you be doing homework?" he asked finally, Harry's gaze reaching the point where it was uncomfortable on his skin.

They were in the library, sitting together while they did homework. Or they were _supposed_ to be doing homework; Harry hadn't opened a textbook while he'd been there, choosing instead to flip through a history of Hogwarts while alternating staring at Draco. And even now, he still didn't stop staring at Draco with a raised eyebrow.

Draco wasn't used to being unsettled when someone stared at him, much less when someone he wanted stared at him, but when Harry was looking at him with his green eyes focused and intense, he couldn't help it. He didn't know what Harry wanted. He didn't know what lines were safe to cross and what lines would result in a cold shoulder, and ever since the Astronomy tower, he felt like he was walking on eggshells. Only eggshells that would make him plummet to his death instead of just crack and cut him.

"I've already finished," Harry answered, and Draco blinked at him.

"What? How?"

"As if it was hard," he answered, and there was something about his flippant tone that made Draco narrow his eyes.

"You're pulling my leg, Potter."

"No," Harry answered, raising a single eyebrow at Draco. "It's all horribly boring. Severus taught me most of this a long time ago."

"Ok, time to stop being cryptic now, Harry," Draco told him, and for some reason, this made Harry's lips twitch, which only increased the feeling that Harry was messing with him.

"Severus has been teaching me over the summer since I was eleven. Granted, he's not an expert in everything, but he's still a good enough teacher to get through material faster than most of the teachers here." Draco blinked again, long and slow as he thought it through. He supposed it made sense, even if he didn't like the way Harry had told him.

"I always did wonder how you seemed to be top of the year when you never pay attention in class," Draco said finally, and Harry raised an eyebrow, lips twitching again.

"I pay attention."

"No, you don't."

"I do."

"Really?" Draco said, narrowing his eyes. Why had he agreed to study with Harry again? It wasn't as if either of them were studying now. "What about that time McGonagall had to call on you three times before you even realized she was talking?"

"I had already understood the concept, it's hardly my fault she just continued to drone on," Harry answered, shrugging and running a finger down the edge of a book page. It was a strange relaxed movement that Draco wasn't used to Harry showing. It sent a warm feeling through his chest that  _he_  had managed to do that.

"You're insane, Harry."

"Only since I've met you, Draco," Harry answered immediately, and Draco couldn't stop himself from smiling. Harry blinked, and then turned his face away, a red tint creeping along his cheekbones.

A blush that  _Draco_  had caused.

"So, Mr. Potter," Draco asked, leaning forward. "I don't suppose you'd like to help me with my homework?" Of course, Harry could never go along with something like that. His nose crinkled up as if he'd smelled something particularly disgusting as he answered.

"Do I look like an encyclopedia?"

No, you look much prettier. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he'd felt like he'd reached a line. A line that he didn't know what would happen is he crossed. Sure, Harry was being friendly _now_ , even playful, but Draco had seen him switch from friendly to defensive in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, he was so focused on not saying the words that he didn't think about what actually came out of his mouth.

"A good boyfriend would help me when I asked."

Harry's head whipped around to stare at him, green eyes wide and full of open surprise, and Draco was backtracking before he could stop himself.

"Not that we're… I mean- I'm not saying that we're boyfriends… It's just an expression, you know?"

"Yes," Harry answered. "I know." He blinked, and that open expression was gone, sealed off with that mix of anger and spite that Draco had seen so little of the past three days. And Draco knew he'd made a mistake.

"Harry," he said, but Harry was already standing, shoving the history book in his bag and swinging it over his shoulder, even though Draco was 90% sure he hadn’t checked the thing out. "I didn't-."

"See you later, Malfoy," Harry answered, and then his back was turned, and Draco wanted to bang his head against the desk because he _should have known better_. But he couldn't, he couldn't because if he didn't go after Harry now, he wouldn't get another chance.

"Harry, wait," he said, crossing around the table as fast as he could. He reached out, but the twisted snarl on Harry's lips stopped his hand.

"Wait for what, Malfoy?"

"I-."

"Harry!" Both their heads turned to look as red-haired Weasley waved to Harry. Then Granger was there, nudging Weasley's shoulder and pointing out Draco. The Weasel frowned, and then they were both heading over, and Draco wondered vaguely if he could get away with cursing them and running. His eyes flicked to the side as Madame Pince thinned her lips at him. Probably not.

"Harry," Granger said, her eyes flicking suspiciously to Draco as she and the Weasel stopped in front of him. "What's going on?"

"I really don't see how that's your business," Harry answered, his lips twisting in a sneer to match any Draco would have thrown at the Mudblood.

"What?" her eyes widened.

"You heard him," Draco answered. "Now run along so I can talk to Harry in private."

"Harry," Weasley's face was red as he stared at Draco, his eyes flashing in a rather unattractive way. "What are you doing with him?" There was a long, tense moment where Weasley waited for an answer, and Harry just looked back at him. His lips were twisted in a sneer, his hands clenched down at his sides, but the light in his eyes was out.

And Draco realized with a start that Harry wasn't angry. He wasn't angry with Granger or Weasley or even Draco, though he'd snapped at them all. Draco saw the depths of the shadows in Harry's eyes and understood for the first time how much the act cost him.

The wave of possessiveness that surged through Draco was so strong he almost gasped. If he hadn't been in front of the weasel and Mudblood, he might have. But looking at Harry, he found he didn't-couldn't step back from this. Not while Harry was standing there looking as if the world was collapsing around him, and he had no choice but to deal with it alone.

"He's with me because he wants to be," Draco said. He hesitated and the allowed his arm to tuck itself around Harry's waste, his hand resting against the small of his back. Harry stiffened, his eyes widening momentary, but he didn't move away. "Now, get lost."

"But…" Granger started.

"Do you need a dictionary for the word ‘lost’, Granger, or perhaps it's the word ‘get’ that you're struggling with."

"You little-," Weasley said, but Granger put her hand on his arm, frowning at Harry and Draco with a strange look on her face. Draco had to hold himself back. He had to tell himself it wouldn't help either himself or Harry if he drew his wand and cursed either Weasley or Granger, but he wanted to. He wanted to cross the distance and- He blinked, stopping that train of thought before it could fully manifest.

"Let's just go, Ron," Granger said. Weasley opened his mouth to argue, but she was already shaking her head and pulling him away.

As soon as they were gone, Harry relaxed. It was strange thing to watch. Draco supposed Harry never truly relaxed, but he did exist in degrees of tension, and his degree of tension went down about three clicks once Granger and Weasley were out of sight.

And he still didn't pull away from Draco's grasp.

It was several minutes before either one of them spoke; Draco somehow knew Harry needed to be the first to say something, so he stayed silent. Harry had his face turned away, his jaw clamped tight as Draco continued to watch him. Eventually, Harry sighed, releasing a tense breath Draco hadn't realized he was holding and turning to Draco with dark green eyes.

"They won't let it go."

"I could have figured that out myself," Draco answered. Harry just looked at him, and Draco almost apologized, wondering if he'd done something wrong again. Something stopped him though, some look in the back of Harry's eyes told him that apologizing would just make it worse.

"Are you going to let me go?" Harry asked finally. Draco raised an eyebrow and let his arm drop from around Harry. Before Harry could take off though, he grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. Harry immediately tensed, his startled green eyes locking on Draco's with a dark look.

"Come with me," Draco answered, tugging against his hand until Harry was following him out of the library. Draco didn't exactly have a plan as to where he was going or even what he was doing; he was just following his gut. Not something he had a lot of experience with, but it seemed natural now to just follow it.

He led Harry across the entry hall and up the stairs, staying away from most of the students. Harry was silent behind him, making no move to disentangle their hands as Draco led him up to the astronomy tower. He pushed the door open and then closed it behind them, his eyes turning reluctantly back to Harry.

"What are we doing here?" Harry asked, too slowly, too carefully for Draco's tastes. He stepped close, ignoring the way Harry's back straightened and his hand tensed around Draco's. If he really had a problem, he would stop him. Draco hoped.

Draco brought his free hand up, skimming it across Harry's cheekbone before resting it on his shoulder and staring. Harry looked back on him, his eyebrows furrowed as if he truly couldn't understand what Draco was doing. He sighed. He should have known better than to try to be subtle.

He shuffled his feet even closer, ducking his head until his lips were an inch away. Harry inhaled sharply, and Draco could feel the air that sucked against his lips. It was almost painful to stay still. And then, Harry was leaning forward, bringing their lips into contact.

Harry’s lips were closed, and his body was stiff, carefully not touching his, but that didn't stop the shock of heat that shot through Draco. It traveled through his skin and made him hot with a desire to strong he was sure he'd never felt the like of it before. He had to consciously remind himself to hold still, to not shove his tongue into Harry's mouth and demand more than he was ready to give. But he shoved the heat down and reminded himself of what Harry needed right then.

He pulled the hand holding Harry's up, setting it in his hair and releasing Harry's fingers to tangle in his hair while he let his other hand slip off Harry's shoulder, sliding up until it was cupping the back of his head. If it was possible for someone to tense anymore, Harry did. His lips were still against Draco, one hand hanging awkwardly by his side and the other clenched so hard in Draco's hair, it almost hurt.

Draco checked his sigh.  _You always knew he wouldn't be easy,_  he told himself as he kissed Harry softly, insistently. And when Harry pulled away, Draco let him go without saying anything.

"Why?" Harry asked, stepping away. Red stained his cheekbones, working its way down his throat in a delicate blush that took Draco by surprise. He would never have taken Harry for a blusher.

"I'm not allowed to want to kiss you?" he answered, and Harry's blush darkened. Draco almost smiled, but he stopped himself at the last second. It felt good to be able to get a reaction from Harry, to be the only one to get that reaction from him.

"How would I know? You're the one that said we weren't-," he broke off, his face coloring again as he cleared his throat, looking resolutely away.

"Yes, and I think this was me doing a fairly decent job of admitting how idiotic that was," Draco answered, crossing until he could lean against a wall to stare. Harry just blinked, and Draco decided to take pity on him.

"Why don't you like them?" he asked, and Harry's expression immediately turned guarded, turning to Draco with a raise eyebrow and unreadable eyes.

"Who?"

"Granger and Weasley?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Because I'm curious. Why can't you just answer the question?"

"I don't like them because I don't."

"Alright," Draco sighed. "Don't tell me." Harry tilted his head, casting Draco a curious look.

"You don't really want to know," he said, moving slowly over to where Draco was leaning.

"Why would I ask if I didn't want to know?" Draco answered, feeling the frustration creeping over him, and Harry was just looking back at him, his green eyes narrowed and thoughtful. "Are you going to tell me now that you've established I have no ulterior motive?" he asked, and when Harry shook his head, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He heard Harry shuffle beside him and reached out, clasping Harry's hand in his before he could run off.

"You drive me crazy," Draco said, to which he received no answer to either.

They didn't stay there much longer; it was getting too close to lunch, and Draco's stomach started growling embarrassingly. Harry didn't exactly say anything; he just pulled his hand away and pushed off the wall before telling Draco he should eat and disappearing. Somehow, Draco knew he wouldn't see Harry for the rest of the day. He had a way of disappearing and so far, Draco hadn't been able to find him when he didn't want to be found.

He climbed down from the Astronomy tower slowly, already feeling the ache for Harry start in stomach as he moved down the steps. He almost didn't notice the glare that was directed at him, and when he did, he thick coil of anger climbed inside him. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was irrational, but that didn’t stop him from being annoyed that his plans of moping about after Harry’s disappearance had been interrupted.

Draco returned Theodore's sneer easily, watching as he and Pansy glared back at him. It was just his luck that on a day like this, they would be the only students inside.

"Draco Malfoy," Theodore said, stalking up to him, and all Draco saw for a moment was red. "What? No Potter to protect you?"

"I don't need Harry to protect me from you."

"Ooh," Pansy answered. "Harry, is it?" Draco scowled at her sickly tone, his hand slipping into his pocket to wrap around his wand.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, Mr. Nott," someone said, and Draco tensed, not daring to turn his head and look. "Anything the matter?" Lupin asked, stepping up close to them. He looked innocent enough, smiling at them as his hands rested in his robe pockets, but Draco had to shove the urge to lunge and tear his face off down as far as it would go.

"Nothing," Pansy answered, her lips twisting in an ugly sneer. "Sir."

"Hmm," Lupin smiled easily at her. "Then I suggest you all get to lunch; I'd hate for you to miss it."

"Of course," Pansy said, and they both moved past, brushing around Draco.

"Enjoy your next trip to the woods," Theodore hissed when he passed, his lips so close to Draco’s ear, he knew Lupin and Pansy couldn’t have heard. Draco's back straightened as he stared after Theodore. He couldn't _know_ , only The Order knew. He couldn't possibly know

"How are you?" Lupin said, making Draco’s eyes snap back to him.

"I see you're back," Draco sneered.

"Yes, I'll be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts for a while," Lupin sighed.

"Remind me to skip that class," Draco muttered.

"Draco, please, I can help you."

"I don't need your help," he answered.

"How do you know? How do you know anything about being a werewolf? I can explain some of things you're feeling."

"I'm not feeling anything unusual."

"No?" Lupin's eyebrows rose absurdly high. "No strange desires? No aggression that strikes you suddenly? No unusual instincts that you didn't have before?" Lupin asked, and Draco bared his teeth, which didn't exactly refute Lupin's claims.

But he was wrong. Draco was normal. The desire he felt toward Harry, to always be around him, to touch, to have him open up to Draco. It wasn't driven by any strange werewolf inside him. And wanting to tear Lupin's throat out, or even Weasleys—well, it wasn't as if Draco had never _wanted_ to do that before. And so what if Draco was following his gut more. The point was, he was normal; there was no wolfy instinct controlling him. At all.

"Just leave me alone," Draco answered, turning his back on Lupin. Lupin sighed but made no move to stop him.

"Just know I'm here when you do need the help," he called, and Draco had to shove the urge to turn around and lunge down.

"I won't ever need it," he insisted.

* * *

"Did you see the way he was looking at him?" Ron asked, shivering with something close to disgust. Hermione nodded though she didn't say anything. She wondered if Ron was more appalled that Harry was with Malfoy or that Harry was with a boy.

"I wonder how long they've been together," she said, though the real question hung heavy in the air,  _I wonder if Malfoy was the one who turned him against us._

"Probably since second year," Ron answered. "You know he was never the same when he came back from summer," Ron scowled. "I bet he and Malfoy bonded about be Parsletongues or something."

"Maybe," Hermione sighed. "Regardless, Malfoy's a bad influence on Harry; Can you imagine what Dumbledore would do if he knew about the two of them? In fact, that's probably why they've kept it a secret for so long."

"Probably."

"We can't let them keep seeing each other," Hermione insisted. "What if Malfoy turns him to Voldemort's side or convinces him not to fight at all."

"Yeah," Ron frowned as if he hadn't thought of that. "Yeah, you're right. We have to do something."

"Harry's our friend. We need to help him, even if he doesn't want our help."

"I couldn't agree more," someone said. Hermione jumped, and Ron scowled, his face coloring red as he stood.

"What do _you_ want, Zabini?" Ron asked.

"So rude," Blaise Zabini answered, his lips curling in a mocking smile. "Maybe I want the same thing you do?"

"Why would you care if Harry is around Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

"I don't care about Potter; I care about Draco. More importantly, I care about his staining Slytherin's image by dating The Golden Boy. Really, it's bad for business," Zabini said, and Hermione looked over at Ron, exchanging a long look. She didn't trust him, but she didn't trust what he would do if they said no. And besides, it never hurt to have someone clever in the planning. Zabini must have sensed that he won, because he stepped forward with a large grin.

"That's the spirit, Gryffindors."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! You guys are awesomejuice!


	3. The Promises Held Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets some advice.

Harry was flipping through another useless history book when Luna Lovegood sat down beside him, arranging her robes around her legs and humming softly under her breathe. He didn't bother to look up at her; she had always been one of the few that his manners hadn't managed to offend, and he wasn't about to start caring overly much now.

"You're here a lot," Lovegood told him, and he could just imagine the starry look in her eyes to match the sound of her voice.

"Hmm," he answered. The library was empty except for them and Madame Pince, who he could just image looking at him suspiciously over her glasses. Sometimes she had maintained that position for hours while he read. He didn't particularly understand why the woman distrusted him so much but then again it wasn't as if he'd done nothing to earn it.

He was sure it was lunch, or maybe dinner. It was some kind of meal anyway that accounted for the lack of people, and he wondered why Lovegood herself wasn't eating.

"Always looking through history books," Lovegood continued when he didn’t respond. "I would say the wrackspurts got you, but I don't see any around your head." Harry had to look up at that, to know just what Lovegood was talking about this time. She had a pair of brightly colored glasses on, staring at him with wide eyes and a curious tilt of her head as she considered him. He sighed and did the obvious thing.

"What are wrackspurts?"

"Oh," she blinked as if no one had ever thought to ask her this. And maybe they hadn't with all the strange things she said on a daily basis. "They're little creatures that crawl in your ears and make your brains go all fuzzy," she answered, smiling contentedly at him.

"Ah."

"Ron's head is full of them," she told him, her voice that matter of fact tone that only Lovegood could pull off when talking about something completely absurd.

"Is it?"

"Oh, yes. I've told him many times he ought to have it checked out."

"But Wrackspurts aren't my problem?" he asked, lips twitching against his will. She blinked at him, long and slow as if seriously considering his question.

"No," she said finally. "Though I think Malfoy was looking for you. His head was full of Wrackspurts." Harry pictured Draco's reaction to that, what he would say if he heard Lovegood saying there were creatures in his ears making him unfocused and had to bite his lip to hold back his snort.

"Why aren't you eating lunch?" he asked, changing the subject before she could ask too much about Draco. As far as he knew, most of the school now knew Draco and he were an item—whatever that meant. He'd gotten a few funny looks at first, some glares, some doe eyed girls—one had even congratulated him, asking him his secret until his glaring scared her off—but most everyone was used to avoiding him, and they weren't going to change now.

"It's dinner," Lovegood corrected, her smile serene, and suddenly he was glad it was her he was talking to. Anyone else would have looking at him suspiciously, would have locked their eyes on him and demanded to know when the last time he ate was, and the truth was, Harry really wasn't sure.

"Whatever."

"I like the library," she answered, not missing a beat. "It's quiet here during dinner. I see you a lot, always looking through history books."

"I don't see you."

"Really? Must be interesting," she said, and he blinked. "What you're reading, I mean," she clarified.

"Not particularly," he sighed, closing the book with a snap. "I've not found anything."

"Well, what are you looking for?"

"What?" he tensed, eyes flicking suspiciously. She just continued smiling as if she were oblivious to his discomfort.

"You said you haven't found anything, but what are you looking for?" she asked again, and he sighed. He'd forgotten who he was talking to. Lovegood always had a way of picking you apart, asking the one question you weren't ready for, reading you better than you were expecting. Most people dismissed her as mad, and maybe she was, but Harry was pretty sure that there was something more to her than just madness.

"I…" he hesitated; one hand clamped down on the book. He didn't want to ask for help, but he wasn't getting anywhere by himself. Besides, if he was careful, she wouldn't really know anything anyway. "Something dangerous, something hidden."

"Like the room of requirement?"

"The… what?"

"It's this room that can be anything you want it to be," Lovegood answered, her eyes drifting dreamily. "One time, I was in desperate need of a nap-."

"Well, no," Harry interrupted. "Not like that. It would be small, something important, probably have something to do with one of founders."

"You mean like Ravenclaw's lost diadem?"

"That's a myth," he answered. "It's not real."

"It's real, it's just lost."

"If it's been lost for ages, how do you know it's real."

"The Grey Lady," Lovegood blinked at him, her glasses bobbing on her nose as she stared. "She talks about it."

"The ghost? I thought she didn't talk."

"Well, she only talks to Ravenclaws," Lovegood answered. "And very rarely about herself."

"Hmm," Harry answered.

Harry left Lovegood soon after, putting his book away and leaving the library to go think. He would probably he have to wait until he next saw the ghost. Even if he could track her down, he couldn't imagine The Grey Lady would particularly like him doing that. He would also have to think of what he would say to get her to talk to him, since Lovegood had said she only talked to Ravenclaws.

He veered away from Gryffindor tower, hesitated before turning left and moving down the stairs to the dungeons. Lucius would have had plenty of time to set himself up in what were previously Severus' private rooms. While Lupin moved into the Defense teacher's rooms and Severus moved into the headmaster's rooms.

He supposed if he was nice, he would go see Severus. He knew the man didn't like being in Dumbledore's old rooms any more than he or Lucius did, but Harry couldn't bring himself to do it. The room reeked of memories of Dumbledore, the things he'd told Harry about Voldemort, about the war. Every time he was in that room, he wanted to curse something for that fact that he was still here, still hunting Horcruxes and trying to get rid of Voldemort when it should have just been over.

Besides, Harry had never claimed to be nice.

He didn't bother to knock before he went into Lucius' rooms, closing the door behind him with a snap that had the pureblood turning toward him with a dark look in his eyes.

"Really, Potter. What if Severus and I were having sex in the middle of the room?" Lucius asked, raising on pale eyebrow at him. Harry just shrugged; Lucius ought to know better than to try to shame him by now.

"I suppose I would try not to laugh as you scrambled to cover yourselves."

"Are you capable of laughing, Potter?" Lucius answered, moving across the room to sit crossed legged on the sofa, and Harry followed him over, sitting across from the pureblood.

"I'm not sure. I'll let you know when the time comes," he said. Lucius smiled at him, thin and amused as he always did. Harry wondered if Lucius had a different smile that he showed Severus, Draco and Narcissa. He wondered if Lucius was acting even now. He wondered if he should be more worried that Lucius would betray him.

"Tea?" he asked.

"No," Harry answered, but Lucius was already waving his wand and there was tea on the table, pouring itself into a cup for him.

"Sugar?"

"I have no preference."

"Of course," Lucius answered, ignoring him completely as two teaspoons of sugar got dumped into his cup, stirred, and then levitated into his hand. Harry sighed but didn't bother to set it down. He'd never once won the dance before.

They were silent for a long moment, Lucius taking measure drinks of his tea while Harry did nothing more than held his. He had to admit it was comforting, having something warm and whole in his hands while he thought. He'd never shared that thought with Lucius, though from the way he smiled across the table at Harry, he seemed to know anyway.

"Why are you here and not with Draco?" Lucius asked, and Harry sighed, his fingers playing idly with the edge of his cup.

Draco was never in his room during mealtimes. Besides, Harry had never _gone_ to Draco's room. There was just something about the act that felt… It felt like crossing some invisible line. A line he wouldn't— _couldn’t_ be the first to cross.

"Did you talk to Severus about Lupin?" he answered, and Lucius just looked at him. It was a dark look, that look he reserved for when he was truly annoyed. Harry felt his lips twitch as he thought about Lucius looking at Severus like that, and Severus' reaction. He thought about the probable argument. It wasn't that he didn't want them together; it was just amusing to him that neither could seem to figure out what they both really wanted was so easy.

His smile faded. He would have given anything for his life to be so simple.

"The decision's been made," Lucius answered. "Besides, no matter how we may feel about the man, he has his uses."

"Hmm."

"Have you seen Severus recently?"

"I've told you, Lucius," Harry sighed, finally setting his teacup down with a clatter. "I don't care about your relationship problems. Just go talk to Severus."

"I did. He said something strange."

"Oh, what did he say?"

"He just…" Lucius shook his head, blonde hair falling around his shoulder as he twirled his teacup around in his hands. Harry just waited for him to speak; he knew better than to rush Lucius. It inevitably ended in disaster. "He seemed to think I would leave him or some such nonsense." This time, Harry couldn't stop the loud snort that came out. Lucius stared at him for exactly two seconds before his nose tilting up in the air, and his face turned haughty.

"What?" he demanded.

"Nothing. I leave you to figure out your own problems. I'm going to bed." He stood, making his way to the bedroom.

"Don't you have your own room?" Lucius griped.

"Yes, it's right over here."

Harry could feel Lucius’ glare along his shoulders as he slipped into the bedroom. But he knew if it really bothered him, Lucius would just toss him out.

* * *

He remembered when Dumbledore had insisted the training begin, saying there were things even Severus couldn't tell him. He'd argued. He'd been angry, but back then he'd always been angry. It hadn't done any good; Dumbledore had simply stared at him until he cooperated. He remembered hours spent over pensives and sitting across from Dumbledore while he droned on and on and on.

And he remembered the pity that had held in Dumbledore's eyes whenever he had looked at him. It was always there, holding steady as they talked, and Dumbledore finally explained his theory of how Voldemort was using Horcruxes. Dumbledore had had a look in his eyes; a look of distrust as if he were worried about the temptation taking hold. He remembered the warnings Dumbledore had given him, and he remembered asking why Dumbledore would think he could possibly want to live forever.

The pity had turned sharp then, sharper than he's been expecting it to, and the meeting had gotten ugly when he'd felt the familiar curl of anger and indignation. He hadn't needed Dumbledore's pity.

Dumbledore had told him the truth after he'd tried to kill himself, calling him forward and demanding even more from him as if he hadn't already suffered enough.

"You can't die by your own hand, Harry," Dumbledore had said, all sad eyes and pitying words. "When you are to die, it must be by Voldemort's hand."

"When I die?" he'd asked.

"Yes, Harry. You must die."

And he had closed his eyes and felt the relief travel through his bones.

When he had opened his eyes again, Dumbledore had still been watching him, the pity increased and intensified. He had never been able to figure out if it was because he couldn't die on his own terms or because he had to die in the first place. At the time, he hadn't cared enough to ask. And later, he'd been too spite driven to care about the answer.

They'd retrieved Slytherin's ring near his 16th birthday, stomping through the remains of a decimated home that had belonged to Voldemort's ancestors. He remembered watching Dumbledore put the ring on, the shine of desired power flicking in his eyes. He hadn't tried to stop him, though when Dumbledore's hand had started to wither and the old wizard had cried out for help, he'd somehow managed to get them back to Hogwarts.

"Why would you touch it?" Severus had asked, healing Dumbledore and casting him a nervous look as if he could have been injured. But then Severus couldn't see the ring as he could. He could hear it whispering about power and death and seduction, and he could feel the pull from across the room. Just because he had no interest in going near it didn't mean he didn't understand the compulsion.

Dumbledore had never told him what happened to the ring. Perhaps he destroyed it and just didn't trust him with the knowledge of how, or maybe he had kept it hidden in a drawer, but then he was sure he would have felt it every time he walked in the office.

And the days had passed, and the summer had ended and then Draco had showed up, and Dumbledore had died, and he should have died too. He had been hoping, willing, promised that it would happen. And instead he'd gotten blonde hair and silver-grey eyes begging him in the forest ground and kissing on the astronomy tower and a hunt for Horcruxes that he hated.

* * *

"Professor," Theodore Nott answered, the arrogant smirk plastered across his face making it very clear that he knew how much he was annoying Severus. "I have some concerns I'd like to speak with you about."

"Mr. Nott," Severus said, trying to keep his teeth from clamping together and hardly succeeding. "As I'm sure you can appreciate, I am not your head of house anymore. Do try Professor Malfoy." He tried to turn away, but Nott dashed in front of him, much like he'd done the first time. It was almost as if he'd been waiting for Severus to leave his private office, for as soon as he’d stepped past the gargoyle, Nott had moved in front of him and began speaking before Severus could get a word in edgewise.

"But I just wouldn't feel comfortable speaking to him about it," Nott sighed heavily as if he'd been terribly burdened by the fact. "You see, it's about Draco. I'm awful concerned, Professor." Severus tensed, exactly the way he knew better than to give the little brat the satisfaction of doing. But it was already done, and Nott was already smiling knowingly.

"Very well," he muttered, turning back toward the gargoyle statue. "Shall we speak in private, then?" Nott gave him a slow smile before he nodded. Severus just spoke his password and led him up the staircase and into Dumbledore's old office. He gestured for Nott to sit while circling around and sitting behind the desk himself.

"So," Severus said, keeping his voice low and controlled. "What's this about Mr. Malfoy?"

"Well, Professor," Nott leaning in, his face intent as if he were sharing some dark secret. Severus had to resist the urge to curl his lip. "He's been spending quite a bit of time with Potter recently."

"Mr. Nott, I’m sure you understand that who people spend time with is rather beneath my notice-."

"Oh, of course, Professor, of course," Nott answered, emphasizing the words in a way that made it clear that he really didn't agree with Severus at all. "But then don't you think it's odd that they both disappear every time the moon's full?" Severus froze, and Nott's smile was large and ugly. " _I_ find it odd in any case. I mean, what could they be doing out in the Forbidden Forest all night like that?"

"Mr. Nott," Severus said, leaning forward. It was easy to keep the tremor out of his voice, after all he'd had plenty of practice before now. But it was harder to intimidate the boy as he leaned forward and fixed his eyes on him. Nott just stared back, a vicious gleam appearing in his gaze. "I think you need to seriously consider what you're insinuating."

"Oh, I think I know. And I would hate to have to take my concerns to the Ministry. Merlin knows what they would do."

"And what could convince you to keep your concerns to yourself?"

"Well, there are certain things that My Lord wants-."

"Your Lord?" Severus hissed, the sound escaping through his teeth before he could stop himself. Nott blinked and stared at him, and Severus sat back with a satisfied expression; as much as Nott wanted to pretend he wasn't, he was still only a boy of 16, and Severus could use that. "And tell me Mr. Nott, how long have you been in the service of The Dark Lord?"

"Long enough," Nott snapped, raising his chin in the pure-blooded defiant way Severus was so used to seeing from Draco.

"And do you really believe he will be pleased if you hand the Ministry one of his secrets? One of his bargaining chips as it were?" he asked and was satisfied when Nott's look wavered. "Get out, Mr. Nott, and don't come back until you really have something to bargain with."

Nott sneered at him, rising to his feet as gracefully as he could when he'd been outsmarted and turned on his heel, marching out the door with all the sullenness of a teenage boy. Severus watched him go, and then sighed. He knew it wouldn't be the end of it; Nott would think of something else, or the Dark Lord would command him to do something else. He should speak to Lucius about what to do with the Ministry.

Severus felt his lip curl at the thought. The idea of depending on Lucius for anything right now was mildly disturbing. He sighed and stood; he would deal with all that later. For now, he needed to change his password lest Theodore Nott decided to pay him an uninvited visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your lovely comments!


	4. The Burdens Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets some troubling news.

"Are you sure we can't skip?" Draco asked again. Harry just stared steadily ahead of him, the same way he'd been doing the entire morning. As if Draco hadn't been progressively getting whinier and whinier the closer, they got to Defense Against the Dark Arts. "Are you even listening to me anymore?" Draco found himself snapping, and then finally Harry was turning to look at him, one eyebrow raised as he did.

"Frankly, no," he said, and Draco scowled. "Not when you've been saying the same thing all morning."

"You can at least attempt to be nice, Potter," Draco answered, and Harry raised his other eyebrow, looking at him as if Draco was the one being ridiculous.

"You were the one who said skipping Defense would cause more problems than it would solve."

"That doesn't mean you can ignore me!" Draco answered, feeling like stomping his foot to emphasize his point but somehow knowing that would be a step too far.

"Well, you can be rather annoying when you whine so much."

It was so utterly frustrating, the way Harry was refusing to look at him, refusing to pay attention to him. They'd been doing well; no, they'd been doing better than well. And so what if Draco was a little impatient for more physical things between them, it wasn't as if he had pushed Harry. There was no reason for Harry to be turning toward him, green eyes sparkling with mirth and-

"You bastard!" Draco hissed. "You did that on purpose."

And Harry threw his head back and laughed.

The sound went straight through Draco, hitting him in a way he was sure nothing ever had before. Of course, he'd seen Harry laugh before, but it had always been that bitter twisted sound that couldn't really count as laughter. This was different. This was something that seemed to ripple out from Harry and shake the ground around them.

It stopped as abruptly as it started, and Harry was looking back at Draco without even a smile on his face. The seriousness on his face left Draco with the horrible fascination of what he would look like if he did smile, because Draco had certainly never seen it before, and he was just beginning to realize how much he would like to.

"What?" Harry asked, shifting his feet. His face was beginning to turn red as Draco stared, wide-eyed and entranced.

"I've never seen you laugh like that before."

"Yes, well," Harry turned his head away, his flush darkening, and then he was turning and walking the rest of the way down the corridor. He stopped in front of the Defense classroom, looked back at Draco, and then slipped inside. Draco sighed and followed him.

He wasn't looking forward to a class taught by Lupin. Not half of which because Harry seemed to hate the man twice as much as Draco ever could. And indeed, it was no surprise when they walked in, and as soon as Lupin looked over at them, Harry scowled and moved to sit as far from him as possible.

When they'd been in the library last night, and for once they'd both been studying, Draco had tried to ask what Harry's problem was, but he had made it very clear he wasn't about to talk about it. And as much as it bothered Draco, the dark look in the back of Harry's eyes told him not to push his luck.

"Draco," a voice said, and he turned to find Blaise Zabini sliding into the desk next to his, smiling in that winning way of his.

"Blaise," Draco frowned.

"Potter," Blaise turned to Harry, whose eyes flicked over and then away.

"Not very friendly, is he?" Blaise's smile widened as if he were unconcerned, but Draco didn't miss the way his eyes narrowed and sharpened.

"Alright everyone," Lupin said. "Let's begin, shall we?" he was turning toward the board, his wand half raised as he continued talking. "Now, I know Professor Malfoy left off working on nonverbal shield charms and disarming charms as well as the introduction of the Lethifold. So, why don't I see what I'm working with, and we'll go from there?" There was a loud grumbling which Lupin promptly ignored. "Let's see, how about we start with Harry and Hermione?"

Hermione was on her feet immediately, springing to the front of the room in an effort to show off. Harry, however, was staring at Lupin with a mixture of disbelief and hate. Draco watched the way Lupin's jaw tightened and decided now was not the time for the silent battle going on between the two. As much as he wanted Harry to win, he didn't think it would benefit anyone if he started firing curses at their Professor. He nudged Harry and was rewarded with a glare that turned into a sigh and then Harry was rising out of his seat to stand opposite Granger, his wand slipping from his robe to be held loosely between his fingers.

"Think he'll beat her?" Blaise leaned over, his breath ghosting across Draco's skin. Draco promptly leaned away.

"Yes," he answered, and Blaise turned an eyebrow at him but even if Draco didn't know that Severus had been teaching Harry over the summer, he'd seen the fight between him and Voldemort in the woods.

Granger eyed Harry for half a second before her wand snapped out. Draco didn't even see Harry move, but he must have or the shield charm wouldn't have worked against Granger's disarming charm. And then Harry's wand was flicking, graceful and easy, and Granger's wand was flying through the air and landing in Harry's palm with a smack. He spent a long second looking at it before he tossed it back to her and turned toward his seat.

"Very good," Lupin praised. "Watch that shield charm, Hermione. You have to be prepared for all incoming attacks." Granger flushed and went to her seat, her face flaming as Lupin called two more people up.

"How did you do that, Potter?" Blaise asked, leaning over Draco, who crinkled his nose but didn't say anything. Harry, however, was already looking out the classroom window, ignoring everything around him as he always did when he found it particularly boring or upsetting.

"Practice," he answered, and Draco reached out. He didn't know what was wrong or even what had triggered Harry to close off. Maybe it had just been standing in front of everyone and having them stare, maybe it had been the reminder that he was so much better than the rest of the classroom. The reason he had to be so much better than them. Draco didn't know, but he did wish Harry would talk to him instead of staring out the window.

Of course, Harry leaned away from him, curled in on himself and turned his head further away. Draco sighed and turned to watch the nonverbal duel in the middle of the classroom, promising himself he would deal with this later.

* * *

 

Blaise had always insisted that just because he didn't hold class rank with people like Draco and Potter and Granger didn't mean he wasn't as smart as them. He'd always said he was more intelligent than Granger if someone were to start judging street smart instead of book smarts.

And Blaise—while all the other 'smarter' people in the room may not have—recognized the look in Potter's eyes.

Potter turned his head just enough to catch his eye. That tired yet determined look in those green eyes. It was the look of someone who didn't want to be here, someone who had a responsibility they hated. A responsibility that was too heavy for them. It was the look Blaise had seen in the mirror every time his mother had married another rich wizard and ordered him to be polite and charming, no matter how much Blaise himself despised the man.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at Potter, but the other boy just turned his head away, lips twisting in an impressive sneer.

Draco had tried to reach out to Potter, but Blaise could have told him how well that would have worked. Or at least how well it had worked every time Blaise had gotten himself into such a state. He wondered why Potter felt that way; he wondered about the gentle frustration he saw in Draco's eyes whenever he looked over at him.

Eventually, Lupin let the class go, saying something about wanting them to enjoy their lunch or some such Gryffindor nonsense that Blaise ignored entirely. As the class rushed to pack and scramble toward the door, he lingered over his bag, shuffling closer to Draco.

Potter spared him a look, full of contempt and indifference and thoughtfulness, and Blaise's hands froze; Potter couldn't know. But he was already turning away, his face bent away from both Blaise and Draco as if he didn't want anyone to know what he was thinking, and Blaise wasn't sure he'd seen what he'd been sure he'd seen in the first place.

"See you later," Potter muttered and then was gone out the door. Draco just sighed, a long drawn out sound as he looked after him. It struck Blaise through the gut; he'd never heard Draco sound like that. He'd never seen Draco look after someone like that. Not in the long years they'd been in Hogwarts together. And he couldn't stop himself from wishing it wasn't  _Potter_  Draco felt that way about.

"Draco," he stepped forward, standing in his vision. Draco noticeable shifted, his silver-grey eyes snapping to Blaise with something like surprise. "Lunch?"

"Oh, sure," he answered, and then lead the way out of the Defense classroom. Blaise stared; he'd told himself he wouldn't. He'd told himself that he would do what he would do no matter what; that Draco and Potter's relationship really wasn't any of his business, but it was harder than he thought it would be. He'd spent the past couple weeks watching as they got closer and closer, and he wanted to _know_. He could hear Granger and Weasley’s words echoing in his head, and he wanted to _know._

He wanted to know if Draco saw in Potter what Blaise had seen. If he saw the quiet energy and tired fight that Blaise had never been interested enough to pay attention to until today. But then, that couldn't be all that Draco saw because even though that left Blaise curious, it didn't leave him curious enough to go chasing as Draco had done.

"So," he hesitated, and then forged on. Nothing for it now. "You and Potter?" Draco stopped walking, turning to look at him with intense silver-grey eyes that were just a touch too defensive.

"What about it?"

"Nothing, I just find it interesting."

"Well, find it interesting somewhere else." Draco snapped, turning his head away and continuing to walk. "I don't need your criticism."

"I wasn't criticizing," he snapped back, rushing to keep up. And that should have been enough proof that Weasley and Granger were right, that Potter and Draco weren’t goo for each other. But Blaise had never known of anyone Draco really liked, much less enough to care if he was criticized for it. He hesitated before trying again. "I was just asking if you really liked him."

"Of course, I do," Draco turned back to him, eyes flashing the same way they did when someone had insulted his very name. "Why would you ask that?"

"I just-," Blaise stopped himself, continuing to walk as they neared the great hall. And he hated the wave of disappointment that shot through him. He’d tried to warn himself not to go poking around; he’d warned himself that he wouldn’t like what he would find. "Nothing, Draco. We'd best get lunch."

Draco gave him an odd look but followed him over to the Slytherin table anyway. Blaise sat for a long time before raising his head to meet the two pairs of eyes focused on him from across the hall. He stared back at Granger and Weasley for a minute before turning his head away and engaging Draco in a conversation about their next class.

* * *

Harry spent most of lunch tracking down the Grey Lady. His stomach felt hollow, his hands shaking as he moved through the corridors of Hogwarts. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a full meal. It wasn't yesterday; maybe the day before…? He was sure he'd had a snack before he went to bed last night.

He used to at least eat once a day, if only because he hated the way not eating made him feel weak. Even if he had to eat in the kitchens with the house elves, he would do it. But recently, he couldn't find it in himself to go eat. He had a job to do.

And eventually it paid off, he found the Grey Lady the same way he'd found her before. The usually frequented places that contained knowledge, places that were lively. He checked the Gryffindor tower, the teacher's offices, and the library before he eventually found her perched on a window seal overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts.

She didn't look up as he approached, but she hadn't last time either.

"Grey Lady?" he said, and she looked over at him, but made no response. He sighed and sat on a nearby window seal. "I've come for the same reason. I need to find Ravenclaw's Diadem. Do you know where it is?" the ghost just continued to stare at him for a long time. Long enough that he couldn't help thinking he was just wasting his time. Even if she did know, she obviously wasn't going to tell him.

"You remind me of the other one," the Grey Lady murmured quietly, so quietly Harry almost missed it. He jumped, having not expecting her to say anything.

"What? What other one?"

"He was persistent like you," she said, turning her head away and looking back over the grounds. "And you have the same darkness in your eyes that can almost be mistaken for gentleness."

"I-," he swallowed harshly, the bitter taste of bile going back down before he could stop it. He was standing before he could stop himself, his muscles tensed against what he knew she was saying but didn't want to accept. "What are you talking about?"

"Like you, he asked for my mother's diadem, and then he stole it," she turned back to him, her voice warping with an angry fire that made Harry take a stumbling step back. "He corrupted it, and I will not make the same mistake again."

"You think…" he trailed off, and he was shivering. He didn't know when he'd started shivering, but he couldn't seem to stop now. "You think I'm like Voldemort."

"Begone, and do not come back."

"But I want to destroy what-,"

"Begone! I will not fall for your tricks again!" she yelled, her ghostly voice filling the space around him and echoing around in his head, and he was running before he knew what he was doing.

Running and leaning over something, pressing his forehead against something cool and damp, and vomiting and vomiting to the very idea that he could be- that he was-

Curling up, wrapping numb arms around himself and only now realizing how wet his face was as he pressed it against something clothed and boney—his knees probably. He was crying, and someone was gasping, and it was so _annoying_ —why wouldn't they stop? His throat hurt, and he hurt, and he was trembling—couldn't seem to stop trembling.

"Harry?" someone's voice, sounding very far away. Hands reached out, and he tried to flinch away, but they were already there, lifting him up and against someone's chest. And he was relaxing before his conscious mind knew what his unconscious already did.

"Severus," he whispered back, his voice low and hoarse from crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Don't hesitate to leave a comment about anything you liked or even didn't!


	5. Darkness Overtaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Severus talk.

Severus was worried. Worried as he hadn't been in a long time. Even the last time, when he'd caught Harry with the cut along his arm that said he'd been cutting himself again, Severus hadn't been worried like this. But as he watched Harry's face, as he took in the sunken cheeks, the bags under the eyes, the shaking of the hands, he was starting to think he should have been. He was starting to think he should have done something, anything to prevent this from happening.

"What happened?" he asked, and Harry turned his face away.

"Nothing."

"Nothing doesn't look like collapsing and vomiting all over the middle of the corridor," Severus snapped. "You're lucky everyone was in class."

"Which is where I should be," Harry answered, ever the avoider.

"No, you should be telling me what happened to make you so upset," Severus said, and Harry raised his head just enough to lock dark green eyes on him. Those green eyes that glared in exactly the right way to make Severus leave him alone as they always had before.

But Severus didn't this time. He couldn't. He'd seen Harry take three steps forward; he couldn't watch him go leaping back. He couldn't watch him destroy himself. Not again. Not after killing Dumbledore. Not after the mess with Lucius.

"Tell me," he said. Harry sighed, his eyelids flicking, his jaw working. They sat in silence for a long minute, but Severus didn't say anything. If Harry was going to leave, he would have already done it. But if he really wanted him to talk, he knew he couldn't push too far before he was ready.

"Am I like him?" Harry burst out finally, his green eyes flashing up to Severus' face so fast he didn't have time to wipe the surprise away.

"Who?"

"Voldemort! Am I like him?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"I… It's nothing," he sagged against the chair, looking somewhere between relieved and annoyed.

"Harry," Severus leaned forward. "You need to talk-."

There was a knock at the door before he finished, three soft raps with a single knuckle. Severus didn't hide the sigh that blew out of him at the sound, and Harry didn't hide the inquisitive look that he sent Severus' way.

"If I don't let him in, he'll only knock again."

"Lucius?" Harry answered.

"Yes."

"I'll just go, then," Harry said, looking only too happy to jump up and out of his seat.

"No, you'll stay right there," Severus snapped and watched with surprise as Harry dropped back into the chair with a scornful glare. It was a glare he was used to. What he wasn’t used to was Harry listening to him. "Come in, Lucius," he called and was rewarded with the door sliding open to let the pureblood in. He closed it promptly behind him before walking further into the room.

"There you are, Potter," Lucius cast a critical eye over Harry. "I would say I missed you in class, but I'd be afraid to feed your ego too overly much. Draco, however, I can safely say was wondering where you went." Lucius raised an eyebrow as if he really expected that to get an answer out of the boy. Harry just gave him a twisted smile and turned away.

"Did you need something, Lucius, or were you just here to ask after Harry?" Severus asked, and Lucius turned toward him, lips tight against the sneer Severus could feel. The tense between them had been so tight Severus could snap it in half recently. It didn't help that Severus was lying to Lucius, but no matter how many times Lucius offered, he just couldn't bring himself to ask for his help. Not when...

So, their conversations would escalate, and they both got angry about things they weren't really angry about until Lucius came into his office, and Severus was snapping before either of them had even looked at each other.

He was ashamed of himself. He was acting like a child who'd had his favorite treat taken away. It was as if he hadn't known Lucius wasn't permanent.

"Well," Lucius said. "I came to ask after Harry, but I also came to see you."

"Well, you've seen me," Severus answered. Harry's eyes locked on him, one eyebrow raised as if considering something. Severus avoided looking at him; he hated that look. It almost always meant trouble.

"Severus-," Lucius started, his hands curling delicately around his cane, the only outward sign of his anger, but Severus knew it all too well.

"If you don't mind, Harry and I were in the middle of something important."

"I- Fine," Lucius let a heavy breath out. "Fine. When you wish to talk, let me know. And think more about whether you want my help with the Ministry." And then Lucius was turning on his heel and shutting the door behind him, the click sounding much too loud for him to have closed it gently.

"So-," Severus turned back to Harry, but Harry was talking before he could really say anything.

"What are you hiding from him?"

"And why, pray tell, must I be hiding something?"

"You're only rude to people like that when-," he stopped, tilting his head as if reconsidering his words. "That is to say, only rude to people you  _like_  when you feel you have something to hide."

"Truly? And what evidence do you have for this?" Severus answered, leaning back in his chair and adopting an air of indifference. From the sneer Harry sent him, it didn't work, but then it could have worked, and Harry could have sneered at him because he wanted to—one never knew with him.

"When you thought you needed to hide your real feelings for Lucius? You lost contact for how long before he was married?"

"How do you even know about that?"

"Oh, Lucius tells stories," Harry rolled his eyes, shuddering as if he was disgusted. But Severus was surprised but the affection that was obvious in his eyes. He leaned forward, locking eyes with Harry's green ones; Harry looked back at him, obviously surprised.

"I didn't know you and Lucius were so close?" Severus managed to keep the jealousy out of his voice, but it was swept away the next second as Harry turned his head away, and Severus saw the red blush that tinted across his cheekbones.

"We're not," Harry snapped, as Severus blinked at him. He hadn't seen him blush for years. It used to be so easy to make Harry blush; one word he didn't mean or a sentence meant to embarrass him and he would. And then it was as if a flip had switched after Diggory had died. Harry hadn’t cried, hadn't blushed, hadn't even eaten or slept the same way.

He knew Harry was crying again; he'd seen it for himself. And now to know he was blushing again. It was surreal. And if Lucius was helping Harry to feel again, then Severus would not begrudge Harry's relationship with him. Even if it did sent a pang through his chest that he hadn’t been able to do the same.

"Why not?" Severus asked.

"I—because—I was asking what you were hiding,” Harry answered, turned his green eyes resolutely on him, and Severus could tell by his expression that the matter was closed.

"Hmm," Severus sat back, studying him. "Theodore Nott tried to blackmail me with information about Draco's turning."

"Theodore Nott knows about Draco?"

"He certainly seemed like it."

"What did he want?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowed. His hands clamped down on the chair as he looked steadily back at Severus, green eyes filled with shadowed intensity that Severus hadn’t seen from him in so long.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"We didn't exactly get to that part before he hinted that he was a Death Eater, and I told him to get out."

"I see," Harry's eyes narrowed. "So, we're to leave Draco out to hang then?"

"Of course not, but I can't just give The Dark Lord whatever he wants," Severus said, and Harry's hands clenched down on the chair. They were tight for one second, two, and then they relaxed, and Harry exhaled.

"And why don't you just tell Lucius this?" he hesitated, and then cocked his head. "Besides, your obvious relationship issues."

"What do you know about our relationship issue?" Severus narrowed his eyes.

"Please, it's all Lucius talks about," Harry rolled his eyes, his voice pitching to a fairly decent approximation of Lucius' whinging. "Severus ignored me; Severus talked to me; Severus refused to see me; Severus said he was busy; Severus-."

"Alright," Severus snapped. "And there's really no need to tease; I hardly think Lucius goes around speaking like that."

"Hmm," was the only answered he got, Harry half raising an eyebrow as if Severus was the one being ridiculous.

"We were talking about you," he said, narrowing his eyes. "We were talking about what was bothering you before."

"What did Nott threaten to do?" Harry asked, completely ignoring Severus' question. He sighed; he should have known it wouldn't have worked. Once Harry moved on, he moved on. There was no getting him back.

"He threatened to go to the Ministry, but even if he does, I can take care of it."

"Aren't you already under suspicion? Wouldn't it just be better to let Lucius handle it?"

"No, and if you know what's good for you, you'll leave it alone, Potter."

"Fine," Harry let out a loud puff of air, sounding frustrated. "But I'll never understand why you don't just talk to him."

"And have you gone and told Draco about your past?" Severus asked. "Have you told him the reason why you don't like people touching you or why you don't like touching people?"

"He doesn't need to know," Harry turned his face abruptly away, his lips pressed flat, looking frustrated now.

"Then I think you understand a little better than you pretend to," Severus told him, and Harry's head snapped up, the glare so poisonous Severus almost had to look away. He didn't though. He didn't because if Harry really wanted him to look away, he would have already left, but he hadn't. So, Severus just looked back at him, his face as soft as he could make it. "When was the last time you ate, Harry?"

"I'm not hungry," his glare softened.

"Or tired apparently," Severus said, and Harry's lips twitched.

"Apparently."

* * *

 

Harry was almost at the Gryffindor tower before he was accosted. He'd left Severus' private rooms as soon as he could get away with it, moving through the castle quietly and quickly. He was full and rested, as full and rested as he'd been in a long time. Severus hadn't made him eat or sleep or anything of the sort, but he'd offered. And Harry had… he had missed him.

Ever since Severus had become headmaster, he'd been busy, or Harry had been avoiding the rooms that used to belong to Dumbledore. It was hard to tell whose fault it really was, but it was still true that Harry hadn't really been near Severus in a long time.

Of course, the food made his stomach hurt, and he still woke up with the scream catching in his throat, but it was always easier to quell the fears when he looked up and knew Severus was looking over from his desk, and he knew he hadn't moved. It was stupid; Severus had never been able to protect him before.

It was stupid, but it was still just as true.

And he did feel better, less as if he would collapse at any moment. But that only meant he had more brain power to think about just how he had wound up in Severus' office in the first place.

He didn't exactly know where he was going. It was early in the morning, early enough that Lucius wouldn't be awake, and neither would Draco. He had absolutely no desire to find the Grey Lady, but he also didn't want to stay in Severus' rooms any longer; he wanted to do  _something_.

He supposed he could go out to the Forbidden Forest but somehow that felt… wrong without Draco with him. He supposed he could go flying; it had been a while. It had a been a long time since he'd flown just because he'd wanted to. Of course, he'd have to get his broom which was in Gryffindor tower, but it wasn't as if he was in a rush.

Of course, that moment was when Weasley and Granger decided it was the best time to have a heart to heart.

Granger appeared first, perhaps because she thought Harry could be more inclined to listen to her or maybe because she thought Weasley would just lose his temper too fast. Harry really didn't care either way.

"Harry, we need to talk," she said, and he sighed, his lips twisted into a scowl.

"We actually don't," he answered, trying to step around her.

"Please, we're worried about you," she said, widening her brown eyes. As if this made her any more attractive or persuasive.

"I don't care," he tried to step again, but suddenly Weasley was there, his red hair blazing against the stones of Hogwarts and taking up the entire corridor as he glared at Harry.

"I told you it wasn't any good to talk to him like that," Weasley said. "Malfoy's got his claws in good, the bastard."

"Yes, you're completely right," Harry answered, crossing his arms. "Can I leave now?"

"Harry," Granger said. "We just want to understand. You've always hated Malfoy, and now you're suddenly involved with him?"

"Yes," He answered, and they both hesitated, waiting for more. He just stared at them, waiting for them to realize it wasn't coming.

"Well...?" Weasley snapped.

"Yes?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Why? Don't you know he's-."

"He's what?" Harry's eyes narrowed. "Just what exactly were you going to say?" Weasley's face turned red, and he opened his mouth to probably say something absurdly foul.

"Vile," Granger cut him off. "He's vile, Harry. How can you not see that?"

"I just can't. I suppose it takes a certain amount of narrow-mindedness to see it."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Weasley answered, his voice tight, face red with anger. Harry wondered vaguely how he had the nerve to call Draco vile.

"Harry," Granger interrupted again. "We're just trying to help. You have to know Malfoy isn't good for you." Harry laughed at her, low and bitter, and Granger flinched. Good.

"Draco is the one who's not good for me? And I used to think you had no sense of humor."

"Just listen-."

"No, you listen," he snapped, stepping forward. Granger immediately backed off, but Weasley didn't.

"You don't know what you're doing, mate," Weasley said, his breathing heavy between them.

"I do," Harry answered, looking back at Weasley. It felt good. It was so rare that anger like this crashed through him. And it felt too god to let it settle into his bones and light a fire into his insides in a way nothing else did. It burned in him; it made him hurt in a way that was somehow more painful and less. It made it possible to hurt as he’d been hurt. It made him want to do something reckless and destructive and dangerous and-

He stepped away from them, gasping out a ragged breath. The Grey Lady had been right all along. He  _was_  like Voldemort; he could feel the darkness and the desire to kill and rage inside of him. He'd spent too many years suppressing the anger that he barely even recognized it anymore, but it was still there.

There were voices around him, echoing along the corridors, but Harry was wrapping his arms around himself, trying to breath normally around the tightness in his chest.

"Harry!" someone said, and something touched his shoulder, and he started, flinging his arm out to get away.

"Don't touch me," he said, only just realizing Granger and Weasley were still there.

"Are you ok?" Granger asked, her eyes wide and full of some emotion he couldn't recognize.

"Just- Just leave me alone," and he turned on his heel, running down the corridor, down several stairs, out into the dark air, and into the forest. He was shifting when he hit the trees and crouching when he was out of sight and sighing when he felt the limiting emotions taking control.

Being in his bobcat form was always simpler. It always—always—put things into perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Your comments are awesomesauce!


	6. Standing Close to Harry Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus asks for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: references to self-harm and attempted suicide

The first time he Harry Potter had been in his potions classroom, all he'd seen was James Potter's face and Lily Evans' eyes. It had been as if someone reached into his nightmares and produced the perfect way to punish him. And really there had been no way to respond but to punish the boy as he was being punished.

And then he had found Potter standing over Quirrell's lifeless body, staring out with eyes so wide and terrified, he had barely recognized the boy. And Potter had recoiled and flinched and been apologizing for things that didn't make sense, and he had realized. He had looked instead of assuming.

And he had been right.

He still remembered standing in the middle of those horrible muggle’s house and telling them to leave Potter alone. He still remembered Vernon Dursley's face turning red, Petunia Dursley's face scrunching up.

"You think you can tell us what to do? In my house?” Vernon had asked, and he had drawn his wand. He hadn't even needed to cast a spell for his point to be made, but he wished he had. He still wished he'd had the excuse to curse the muggle.

And he'd taught over that summer. He'd taught, and he'd watched as the boy grew and began to smile and chatter and learn, and somehow Potter had become Harry, and he'd come to care about the boy that he should have hated. And he'd been scared. Scared enough to care more about what he should have seen in the boy's eyes instead of what he actually did see.

And when he did see the boy again it, it had been too late. Harry had been broken and his eyes had lost that bright green shine that Lily had always had. And it had been his fault. It was his fault when the boy broke down in his arms. It had been his fault that he didn't protect him as he should have done. If not for Lily's sake, then for Harry's.

Because Harry, with his intelligent eyes and his wide smile and his innocent face should not have had to learn the lessons he did when he was his age.

But the damage was done, and if he had ever learned anything, it had been that there was no undoing the mistakes he had made. So, he moved on, and he moved Harry with him. They lived for a time in his own house, quiet and away from everyone else, but that light still never came back into Harry's eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" he'd asked one morning, and Harry had turned to look at him.

"Nothing," Harry had answered, his gaze had been steady, his eyes unfocused.

"I-," he'd licked his lips, feeling horribly uncomfortable. "They say talking helps." And he'd never understood the look Harry had given him. The one with the puzzled tilt of his head, the one with the faint self-mocking twist of his lips.

"Thank you, but I'd hate to be a bother."

And he'd hardly been able to push. It hadn't been as if he truly knew anything about healing from wounds like Harry's.

And then there had been Remus Lupin. _Lupin_ had talked, and Lupin had _charmed_ , and there was nothing he could do to stop Harry from listening to _Lupin_. And when reason failed, anger bubbled up, and he'd learned a long time ago that anger had never worked well with Harry.

But in the end, he had been right. And Lupin had left Harry more broken than he had found him. And that was his fault too, because he had sworn he would protect the boy. He had sworn Harry wouldn't have to learn the lessons of hate and self-loathing and yet he'd cradled Harry in his arms and listened as Harry told how he hated himself.

"It's alright, Harry," he'd whispered to Harry's sleeping form. "I know just how you feel, and this hate you feel for yourself, you get so used to it, you don't even feel it anymore."

He'd known Harry was spending time with Diggory. He'd known he was getting attached. He just hadn't realized how attached until Diggory had died, and Harry had come back with that look in his eyes.

It had been worse than ever before, blank and dead and he had felt something cold take root in his heart. It had been worse than when Lily died. It had been so much worse. Maybe because he loved Harry with a different part of his heart, with more of his heart.

And then the cutting had started and then the suicide attempt. And Harry had looked at him and asked why he couldn't die if he wanted to, and he had wanted to scream in agony. But he hadn't. He hadn't because his pain hadn't been what would have kept Harry going.

So, he'd bit his tongue, and he'd spit some shite about defeating the Dark Lord, and it had worked. Only after Harry had been asleep did he let the tears go. He let himself cry over the boy he could have—should have been able to save. Lily's son, but then that wasn't even why he was so very important to him anymore.

* * *

Draco had had enough. Harry was gone again, disappeared when no one was looking, skipping meals and class and hardly looking Draco in the face even when he was there. First it had been the library, and now he was disappearing who knew where every chance he got.

And Draco was tired of it.

He was walking out the meet Harry, he'd seen him come out of the forest not too long ago and raced down from the astronomy tower to meet him, hurt and jealous from some stupid reason. Draco didn't own the Forbidden Forest. But it just somehow hurt that Harry went there without him.

Harry stopped about a foot away from him, his head coming up in time to fix Draco with a venomous glare. He returned it, holding the snarl between his lips. They stood across from each other for a long minute, Draco dying to yell and scream and get in Harry's face but knowing it wouldn't do any good.

"What do you want?" Harry asked finally.

"Why do you still believe I have to want something from you?" he answered, teeth clenched against the growl he could feel deep in his throat. Harry just turned his face away, and Draco made a valiant attempt to calm down. "Where have you been?"

"Nowhere. Mind your own business."

"My own business?" Draco answered, the anger was rising like a wave, washing against him and making it impossible to think clearly. "Maybe you _are_ my business?"

"I'm not your anything," Harry snapped, his face still turned firmly away.

"Harry, look at me."

"No. Leave me alone."

Then, he was turning, walking away as if Draco didn't exist, as if nothing between them existed. And the anger swelled, and Draco lounged out, grabbing Harry's wrist and stopping him in his tracks before he could move away. He cried out, yanking against Draco's hold and looking up with startled green eyes. Green eyes that finally had some emotions in them, and that broke through to Draco. He gasped and let go, stepping back with a strangled yelp.

He hadn't meant to... Yes, he wanted to open Harry up, make him feel and trust Draco again, but not by hurting him. Draco had never really wanted to hurt Harry, not even when they were standing on opposite sides from each other, screaming insults and trying to get each other to come undone.

"I- I…" he tried, but Harry was staring at him, his eyes still wide in that way Draco had never seen them before, his hand wrapped around his wrist. His wrist that was bright red where Draco had grabbed it, and he had nothing to say in his own defense.

* * *

"And I suppose you have proof of this?" Severus asked.

"We have a very reliable source, Professor Snape," Scrimgeour's lip curled, and Severus couldn't help wondering if he conducted all of his Ministry business calls with such a lack of finesse. "Rest assured the order to have you out of Hogwarts will be signed very soon."

"So, it hasn't been signed yet?" Severus raised an eyebrow. "Pardon me for not taking you very seriously. Now, if that's all, have a good day Minister," Severus said, and promptly ended the Flood connection before the Minister could say whatever horrible insult was on the tip of his tongue.

Severus leaned over his desk as the Floo closed. He supposed it had been foolish of him to truly believe that Nott wouldn't tell anyone about Draco's curse simply because Severus had momentarily scared him. Still, telling the Ministry was a big move.

It spoke that he was willing to get Severus thrown out of Hogwarts, because that was exactly what it looked like was about to happen. All Scrimgeour needed now was a few more of the right people to believe him and then Severus would be out, maybe even straight to Azkaban.

He shook his head, concealing the identity of a werewolf was hardly grounds to send someone to Azkaban. Maybe a fine, probation, but not Azkaban. Both he and the Minister knew that, which was probably why he'd called Severus in the first place, trying to scare him into doing something stupid. Well, Severus straightened over his desk, it wouldn't work.

However, the Ministry knowing about Draco was still a problem that needed to be solved. If Severus was thrown out that would mean, Lucius and Draco would go with him and the Death Eaters would have all three of them soon after. Not to mention all the trouble Draco would be in for not registering and such nonsense.

He sighed, pressing two fingers against his left temple. He couldn't ask Lucius for help. He just… couldn't. As much as Harry seemed to disagree with his decision, Severus still had some pride left. And if he couldn't ask Lucius, that really only left one other person in the castle to help him pull strings he couldn't simply pull himself. Severus turned back toward the fire, throwing in a handful of Floo power and sending the message to come visit him. And then he waited for the knock on his door.

It came sooner than he expected it to.

"Come in," he called, and Remus Lupin immediately stepped into the room, casting a weary eye around.

"Can I do something for you, Snape?"

"Obviously," Severus answered, as Lupin crossed the office, coming to stand in front of Dumbledore's old desk.

"And what would that be?"

"Well," Severus' lip curled. "I need your help to deal with the Ministry."

"Deal with the Ministry," Lupin's eyes sharpened. "How do you mean?"

"It seemed they've found out about Draco's change."

"Oh," Lupin's eyes widened, and he sat down. "Tell me how I can help."

* * *

Harry understood self-loathing. He understood more than he was willing to admit, so looking back at Draco, it was easy to understand exactly what was going on inside his head. It was easy to see his muscles bunch and his breath constrict and know he was about to run.

It was what Harry would have done.

He reached out—ignoring the shiver that shot through him at what his touch would do to Draco—and put a hand on each shoulder. Draco froze under him, his silver-grey eyes startled and full of guilt. He focused his attention on those eyes, the eyes that looked into his and asked for forgiveness that Harry had already given him. Forgiveness for something that he needn't have asked for.

It was better to focus on Draco than himself anyway. It was better to focus on Draco now than Draco when he was to leave Harry.

"It's alright," Harry said. "You didn't hurt me."

"I could have," Draco answered, his shoulders shifting as if he would pull away, and Harry half hoped he would. The other part, the part he tried to bury, hoped he would move closer. "I was out of control."

"It's part of being a werewolf, Draco," Harry said. "You're not always going to be in control." Draco started, looking at Harry with surprise.

"How do you know that?"

"I did my research," Harry rolled his eyes before he could stop himself, and Draco stared at him for a long minute. Harry was sure he'd done something wrong, sure he'd messed up and Draco would—Draco snorted, tossing his blonde hair back in something like amusement.

"I suppose I should have figured."

"You should have," Harry answered, lips twitched of their own accord. Then again, they did that a lot around Draco.

Draco smiled at him. That light up the world smile that Harry was sure he'd done nothing to deserve. He felt his face heat up and turned away before Draco could say anything to him about it.

"Lupin tried to tell me," Draco continued. "I wouldn't listen."

"Yes, well. Lupin isn't exactly the most trustworthy of people," Harry answered, and Draco looked back at him, his silver-grey eyes shining.

"Why do you hate him so much?" he asked finally.

"Who?" Harry answered, and Draco scowled.

"You know who I'm talking about."

"Do I?"

"Why can't you just answer the question?"

"What are you going to do about your werewolf thing?" Harry answered, shifting and turning his head to ignore the anger in Draco's gaze.

"I don't know," Draco snapped. "Maybe I'll ask Lupin for help since he apparently doesn't lie to me," and Harry couldn't help it. He flinched at the words, snapping away from Draco and feeling the words press down on him. Draco wasn't wrong to think it. Harry was sure Lupin wouldn't lie about werewolf things to Draco, where Harry lied about everything.

"Alright," the word came out as a whisper of breath, forced between teeth, and Draco seemed to realize his mistake even as he heard the word.

"That's not what I meant, Harry," Draco sighed, his face softening. He reached out, but Harry recoiled away and out of reach. The hand froze and then fell, too slowly for Harry to not feel the regret that pulsed through him.

He could remember every time Draco had touched him. They had been few and far between, but they had blazed and burned in his memory like nothing else. They had left him wanting more of the forbidden touch. A touch he shouldn't want, because it was wrong. He was wrong for wanting it. For wanting its comfort when he should have been thinking of what the touch could be doing to Draco. Certainly, touching had never made him feel good before Draco, so how could it be pleasant for Draco when Harry did it.

"I just wish you would tell me what's going on with you, is all," Draco said, his eyes bright and sincere. Harry looked away; he couldn't bear that look. The looked that reminded him of just how much life and happiness Draco was giving away to care for him. And Harry couldn't even pull away from him. Every time he tried, he just came crawling back to Draco and demanding more and more.

"There's nothing to tell."

"You know that's not true," Draco answered, shifting and narrowing his eyes, and Harry could sense the frustration standing just on the other side of Draco's control. "Harry, talk to me. If no one else, talk to me."

"I… shouldn't…"

"Why?"

"Because I'm…" he tried to step away, to get away, but Draco was already there. He wasn't touching him, but he was there, blocking the path and asking for things he couldn't understand.

"You don't have to be afraid," he whispered, standing so close Harry could feel his breath ghost across his face. And he should have been afraid; he should have been pulling away from Draco and running away, but all he could feel was the burning desire to know Draco was this close. He shivered, and Draco must have felt it, because he started moving back again, a murmured apology of him lips.

Harry's hand shot out, catching Draco's arm and stopping him, his fingertips digging into Draco’s elbow. Their faces were inches apart, and he was staring into silver-grey eyes with pupils blown wide. Harry had seen that look before; he knew what it meant. It had never sent his pulse hammering inside him with anything besides fear before.

"You shouldn't be afraid of this," Draco told him, and in that moment between just the two of them, Harry found his body believed Draco even if his mind was still skeptical.

He was never sure if he kissed Draco or if Draco kissed him. At the time, he hadn't cared. Though looking back, he would have preferred it be Draco. That way he could claim deniability for what happened next.

It wasn't the closed lip stiff kiss he'd shared with Draco twice before. It wasn't anything like that. Part of him longed for that kiss, for the safety of it. And another part of him, reveled and hummed and sang at how the kiss burned through him, took him apart, remade him, and made him shudder again and again.

Draco was hesitant at first, his mouth moving slowly, carefully. After several seconds, he seemed to realize that Harry wasn’t moving at all, that Harry's hand was still on his arm, tugging, pulling, unsure itself what it wanted. He took Harry's wrists in his hands, gently pulling them up and around his neck, and Harry automatically let his hands settle. Then Draco put tentative hands around Harry's waist, drawing flat against the small of his back before pulling Harry flush against his body.

Harry gasped against Draco's mouth. He gasped at the taste of Draco—sweet and coppery in his mouth—at the feel of his body—hard lines and muscles pressed all along Harry's—of his hands—gentle and caressing along his back. He let his hands slide up, winding in soft blonde hair. He was careful not to pull, not to clutch, not to… He shuddered and directed his thoughts abruptly away from that line of thought.

It was different than anything Harry had expected, different and worse. Different and better. He never wanted it to stop.

Then Draco was pulled away, brushing his lips once, twice against Harry's before he pulled back. Harry let his eyes flutter open and lock onto Draco's silver-grey gaze and felt more confused than he had ever felt before.

"Don't pull away from me," Draco said, pulling Harry even closer against him.

It was more comforting that he was willing to admit, but it was also scarier. Scary enough that he had to bite his lip and turn away before the promise could slip past. Draco just sighed and let him go when he moved away.

For the first time in a very long time, Harry wondered if that was truly a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and your wonderful reviews!


	7. Misunderstood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaise confronts Harry.

Lucius was beyond frustrated. He couldn't understand what was wrong with Severus, and he could not understand what he could do to fix it. Every time he asked, Harry gave him a look that Lucius could only describe as a mix between disapproval and pity. And didn't that just burn Lucius up, a Potter was pitying him. Lucius Malfoy.

And yet still, Severus had refused to see him, had almost kicked him out of his ~~~~~~~~office like so much trash, and Lucius could not figure out what he had done to deserve it.

The door opened to his rooms, and he sent Harry a disapproving look that the boy promptly ignored. Lucius was already seated in his favorite chair by the fire, tea in his hand and legs crossed stiffly. Harry's eyes flicked over him once before he sat in the chair across from him and let out a loud breath.

"Shouldn't you be at dinner?" Lucius asked.

"Shouldn't you?"

"Come now, Potter," Lucius threw his casual smirk at Harry, who didn't even bother to look up at him. "You know I despise having everyone stare at me while I eat."

"You know, maybe they wouldn't stare so much if you were there more."

"You sound like a real philosopher," Lucius snapped, because they were in his private rooms and if he wanted to be petty, he could be, and if Harry was going to tell anyone he'd have done so much earlier than now.

"I try," Harry's lips curved up into that thin half-amused smile of his.

"Are you just here to annoy me, Potter?" Lucius asked. "Or did you need something?" Harry sighed, finally turning in his chair to face Lucius as would have been polite to do from the beginning.

"I wanted to… well, I need your… advice."

"Oh?" Lucius set his tea down, leaning forward to listen better. He figured this was a monumental day indeed, Harry Potter asking for advice. He wondered when the last time the boy had truly let himself acknowledge that he needed help was. It couldn't have been any time soon if the pained expression on the boy's face was anything to go by.

"Hypothetically, if you were trying to get a ghost to tell you something they didn't want to talk about, how would you go about doing that?"

"A ghost? What ghost?"

"There's no ghost," Harry snapped, looking entirely too aggravated for there to be no ghost. "This is hypothetical."

"Hmm," Lucius answered and watched as Harry's hands tightened around the arms of his chair. "Well, you can't give ghosts any kind of potions or anything, so it would have to be purely manipulative."

"Yes, but how."

"What are you trying to find out?"

"That doesn't matter."

"It actually does," Lucius answered. "How am I supposed to give you advice on manipulating someone when I don't know who the someone is or what the something you're trying to find out is? I don't know how you expect me to help you, Potter,” he paused. “Hypothetically, of course." Harry leaned back in his chair with a sigh, his head falling back to look up at the ceiling.

There was a long pause, and Lucius just let Harry think and stare at the ceiling. Lucius picked up his tea and began to drink easily; it was always the best strategy to let your opponent stew on their options. Eventually, Harry would realize he would have no other option than to tell Lucius what was going on. If he'd had another one, he wouldn't be here in the first place. Harry was a creature born of desperation; Lucius knew better than to think he went to anyone else for help when he could possibly solve his own problems.

"What if you were—hypothetically," Harry's eyes flashed when Lucius blinked at him, wondering if the boy had lost his mind entirely. "…trying get the Grey Lady to tell you how to find something she'd rather I—that is to say you didn't know?"

"And why do you want to find this item?" he asked, and Harry shifted in his seat and said nothing. Lucius decided to let it go; he would either know later or it wouldn't end up being important. "As I remember," Lucius hesitated, taking another slow drink of tea before setting the cup down. When he finished, Harry was watching him with impatient green eyes that made Lucius want to sigh. "The Grey Lady only talks to Ravenclaws."

"So?"

"So, there is your answer," Lucius said. "Get a Ravenclaw to talk to her. She may then be more forthcoming with the information." Harry sat up, his eyes brilliant.

"That's it! Thank you, Lucius," he started to get up, but Lucius stopped him with a look and a word.

"You can perhaps repay me by giving me advice in return?" he said, and Harry froze, his expression turning to stone in the seconds it had taken Lucius to speak. Lucius bit his tongue and refrained from feeling insulted; what did Harry think he was going to do; curse him?

"About what?"

"Severus, of course. I know you know what's bothering him."

"Sometimes," Harry muttered, casting a glance up at the ceiling. "You are the most blind person I have ever seen."

"Am I?" Lucius asked, raising an offended eyebrow that Harry ignored completely.

"Tell me, Lucius," Harry frowned at him. "Have you told him how you feel?"

"I- of course, I-."

"I'm not talking about being attracted to him or anything like that, I'm talking about have you told him how you really felt about Narcissa, how you've really been in love with him all this time-."

"Why would you-," Lucius found himself sputtered in that extremely unattractive way that only thinking of Severus seemed to bring out in him, but Harry just continued to talk over him, which he supposed was preferable to Lucius' mess of words.

"Have you told him you want a real relationship with him? You've told me, but have you told him because right now he assumes he's some fall back as you mourn Narcissa."

"He could never be that," Lucius sat up indignantly, and Harry smiled sardonically at him.

"Yes, well, there's my advice," he answered, moving across the room to pull open the door. Lucius just sat back in his chair and watched the boy leave. He should not have been able to feel scolded by a teenager with attitude problems.

* * *

Blaise was waiting around the corner for Potter to show up. He always skipped dinner. Well, Potter skipped pretty much every meal, but for some reason he had been strangely absent from the castle the rest of the day, which left Blaise with only dinner to confront Potter.

He'd been putting off talking to Potter for as long as possible, but that had to be over now. Granger and Weasley were at their wits end, something had stirred them up last night, and they were apparently ready to do something about their dislike of Draco and Potter's relationship. Meaning it was time for Blaise to put his big boy pants on and do something too.

Finally, Potter came around the corner, walking a little faster than his usual pace but otherwise looking how he usually did, proud and haughty and scornful. Blaise stepped away from the wall, moving to stand in front of Potter and blocking the corridor as much as he could. Potter hesitated for half a second and then maneuvered as if he would go around.

"We need to talk," Blaise said, shifting so he was back in front of the other boy.

"No."

"Potter, listen to me-."

"No," Potter answered, somehow sidestepping Blaise's outstretched hand in order to get around him.

"It's about Draco!" Blaise said, and Potter froze. It was a minuscule movement, but it was still enough that he could see the muscles along Potter's shoulders tense and constrict as he stood with his back to Blaise. He supposed Potter did have a heart after all. Who knew? "Just listen. If you don't like what I have to say then tell me to get lost, but don't you think you should at least listen?"

"Fine," Potter snapped, twisting around to lock Blaise with his dark glare. "Come on." He brushed past, and Blaise was left with nothing to do but follow him.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere."

"That's not an answer," Blaise grumbled, but Potter still refused to say anything as he walked up several flights of stairs and then down one long corridor, finally ending at an unused girls' bathroom on the second floor. Blaise raised an eyebrow when Potter ushered him inside but went along willingly enough.

"Harry!" a high-pitched girls' voice called as soon as Potter stepped inside. She swooped down from the ceiling dressed in Ravenclaw school robes and pigtails. Her smile was wide and just a little manic as she stared at Potter, but he just nodded to her.

"Myrtle."

"It's been so long since you've come to see me," she answered, and Blaise felt his eyes widen as Potter didn't even blink at the usually moaning girl. He glanced back toward Potter and then promptly looked away again; was it normal for Potter to talk to  _Moaning Myrtle?_

"It's been maybe two weeks," Potter answered, raising one eyebrow at the dead girl.

"I know, it's been  _horrible_ ," she shrieked.

"Hmm, Myrtle, would you mind giving us the room?"

"You don't want me here?" she answered, covering her face. "Horrid Myrtle annoying you again, is she?!"

"It's just that I need to have a private conversation with Zabini here," Potter shrugged, completely unaffected by Myrtle's apparent self-pity. Myrtle looked up at him, uncovering her face and coming into Blaise's person space to examine him.

"Oooh, will you kill him, Harry? Shall he share a stall with me?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Then, take all the time you need!" she answered, swirling through the air and disappearing down into a toilet with a loud swish and an echoing giggle. Blaise swallowed and turned to Potter with what he hoped was a charming smile. He had sounded much too calm when he'd talked to Myrtle about killing him. He hadn’t  _thought_ Potter was a murderer.

"That was a joke, right?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Potter answered, which really wasn’t calming in any way. He leaned back against one of the sinks to stare unnervingly at him. "It was the only way to get her to leave."

"So, you're not actually friends with Moaning Myrtle?"

"No, I am."

"Oh, ok, then," he answered. Potter just continued to stare at him. Blaise cleared his throat and shifted under the gaze; it shouldn't have been this hard talking to the supposed hero of the light. Wasn't Potter supposed to be all rainbows and sunshine, not doom and gloom and glare at you until you feel the need to take off?

Why did Draco like him again? Because Blaise couldn’t see it.

"So, anyway," Blaise said. "I've been talking to Weasley and Granger and-."

"Have they been talking back?" Potter interrupted.

"What?"

"Weasley and Granger?" Potter asked. "Have they been talking back or are you just shouting at them and hoping they answer eventually." Blaise blinked, somewhere between offended and amused and having no idea which side was going to come out on by the end of this conversation. He decided to pick the safe answer.

"You don't call them by their first names?"

"No," Potter said, which didn't exactly explain anything, but his tone made it clear that further questions would not be welcome. So, maybe not the safe answer then.

"Oh, anyway. We've all been talking, yes, and they've decided they need to split you up from Draco," Blaise said, and Potter's eyes darkened. He turned his head to the side, but Blaise still caught the flash of anger that burned in them.

"Why are you telling me this? What do you want?"

"I think that's my business," he hesitated at the sharp look Potter threw his way. If felt as if Potter  _knew_ , as if he could read his secrets just by looking at him. Blaise shuddered at the very thought. For some reason, Potter being able to read his thoughts suddenly didn't feel that far-fetched. Then Potter's eyebrows furrowed, and Blaise dismissed the thought as nonsense.

Just because Potter was acting dark and dangerous didn’t mean he actually was. He was only playing a part, trying to intimidate Blaise.

"Why would I listen to you, then?"

"What if you don't and Weasley and Granger actually succeed?" Blaise answered. "Do you really want to lose Draco over something stupid like that? At least with me, you know what to look for." Potter's eyes narrowed marginally. "It should be enough right now that I'm on your side, and I'm here to help."

"It should be," Potter answered, though Blaise wasn't a fool enough to think he was actually convinced. "So, is that all you know?"

"Pretty much. I know Granger wants something to happen pretty soon. I think they said something about Weasley, as in the younger one. Ginny, I think. Other than that, I don't really know. I'm more on 'get Draco to hate you' duty."

"Helpful," Potter answered, his voice snarky and sarcastic, which Blaise kindly decided to ignore. He figured if this was how Potter usually was, then maybe everyone else rather had a reason to hate him. Blaise certainly did. If he didn’t before; he did now.

"Now, can we leave this restroom?" Blaise asked. "It's kind of-."

"Spooky?" Potter interrupted, pushing away from the sink he was leaning on.

"Dirty," Blaise answered, following him out and letting the door fall shut behind him, already feeling infinitely cleaner. "Why did we even have to go in there?" he asked and ignored the way Potter's eyes flicked to him.

"The paintings have ears, and they're not shy about using them or telling your secrets to whoever asks."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Potter answered, already moving away from him and back the way they'd come. "Best not forget that, Zabini."

"Forget what, Blaise?" A voice horribly close to his ear and horribly familiar snapped. Blaise turned abruptly, stepping away from Draco and working his jaw against the accusations he could feel being thrown at him through those silver-grey eyes.

"I, uh…. nothing," he said, looking over his shoulder, but Potter was already gone. Probably off abusing some innocent first year somewhere or something.

"Nothing," Draco answered, his eyes narrowing, and Blaise opened his mouth to explain only to find he couldn't.

He'd never meant to involve Draco in any of this. Any of this. It was only supposed to be Potter; Potter that he talked to and—he couldn’t risk Draco finding out. He just couldn’t look into those silver-grey eyes and see the surprise and—

"Potter and I were just talking," he said when it was clear Draco wasn't going to say anything.

"In a girls' bathroom?" Draco answered, frowning, dead pan.

"I… Look, it was nothing, ok?" Blaise was scooting around Draco now, making his grand escape. Draco was just watching him, not bothering to move and stop him. As soon as Blaise was on the other side of Draco, he turned on his heel and took off down the corridor.

When he stopped at the corner to look back, Draco was no longer there. He sighed, putting one hand on the wall and leaning against it. He'd known better than to hope Draco would do anything but go after Potter.

* * *

"You're sure," Ginny asked again. Hermione could see Ron roll his eyes behind her, but she ignored him as she focused on Ginny. This was important; they needed to get this right. They needed to make sure Ginny was absolutely convinced, because if she wasn't convinced then she would never make her move.

"I'm positive," Hermione told her. "Harry told me so himself. He said he's just too shy to say anything to you."

"But I thought Harry and Malfoy were a thing," Ginny frowned. "And wasn't Harry dating Cedric before; doesn't that make him gay?"

"What?" Ron's face turned an ashen color as he sat bolt upright. "Harry's not gay; I'd’ve known!"

"Yeah, that's right," Hermione nodded firmly. Though inside she wasn't as sure. She'd seen the way Harry and Cedric looked at each other during fourth year. She'd seen the way Harry had been after Cedric had died. But then she was sure Ron wasn't ready to accept the fact that Harry might be gay yet, and besides, Hermione had a plan even if he truly was. "He's just confused," she told Ginny.

"But if he's confused-." Ginny was shaking her head, looking as if she was changing her mind.

"No, I don't mean confused like that," Hermione insisted. "He likes you Ginny, but he doesn't think you like him."

"Why would he think that?"

"Well, you were dating Dean," Ron answered, his lips twisting with disgust, and Hermione promptly ignored him.

"Anyway," Hermione said. "Harry's only with Malfoy because he threw himself at Harry, and Harry was sure he couldn't have you, so he just went with it."

"But that's so wrong," Ginny shook her head. "To himself  _and_  to Malfoy."

"You see why we're telling you all this now?" Hermione answered. Ginny smiled, reaching out to take her hand.

"Thank you, Hermione," she gave her hand a squeeze before letting go, and Hermione was sure they'd succeeded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your wonderful reviews! :)


	8. To be Reconciled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, early post for everyone because your comments were absolutely amazing! I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading.

"So, that's what you've been doing every time you disappear," Draco said, his hand gripping Harry's elbow hard enough to be painful. He could feel his control wavering, the anger and adrenaline and jealously hovering just on the other side, but he couldn't find it in himself to reign it in, no matter how much he reminded himself he needed to.

"What?" Harry blinked once, pulling his arm and then blinking again when Draco wouldn't let it go.

"Blaise, girls' bathroom," he answered. "Ring any bells?" And he felt a perverse sense of satisfaction when Harry flushed, but it was quickly dampened by the glare that followed.

"So, what? You're following me now?" Harry said, tugging again with no success. "How's that for trust," Draco snarled at him, tightening his grip and feelings the anger curl and shift inside his bones.

"Obviously, it's a good thing I did," Draco answered. He couldn't understand how Harry could even still be looking at him. Had he truly meant so little? Draco had thought Harry had been so hesitant because of the things Voldemort had said, the things he had implied about his past, but apparently it had been something completely different. And it hurt so badly to know that it had only been Draco who cared all along.

"Oh, and why's that?" Harry sneered, green eyes cold and cutting in a way they hadn't been in a while.

"I don't know,  _Potter_ ," Draco snapped, and felt a vicious sense of glee when Harry flinched in his grip. "This just seems like the sort of thing you'd tell your boyfriend."

"You didn't need to know."

" _How_ could I possibly not need to know?"

"I was dealing with it," Harry answered, and Draco hesitated. Harry was dealing with  _what_ , exactly? His affair with Blaise? Draco turned the words over in him mind for a moment before frowning.

The comment just didn't make sense, and even with Harry's fondness for turning a conversation around, and confusing Draco until he got out of giving any answers, there was something about the way he said it, the way he turned his head away, that drew Draco up short.

"Dealing with what?" he asked finally, and Harry looked at him sharply as if he couldn't understand what Draco was getting at.

"I was dealing with what I was dealing with."

"What were you doing in the bathroom?" he asked, feeling as if he were on the edge of something and not daring to hope he'd jumped to the wrong conclusion. Harry's eyes sharpened on his face, green boring into him as if he too were on the verge of realizing something.

"What do you think I was doing?"

"Harry," Draco snapped. "Don't do this now. I really can't stand it, just tell me what you were doing."

"Blaise was telling me something," Harry said, his voice reluctant, quiet, and Draco  _knew_ he wasn't lying. Harry didn't know how to lie when he used that voice.

"What was he telling you?" Draco answered, and Harry looked over his shoulder, reminding him that they were still standing in the middle of the corridor, Draco still gripping his arm tightly.

He released Harry, stepping away and beckoning for Harry to follow him. He hesitated but eventually stepped up behind Draco, tracing his steps. They didn't encounter anyone as Draco led them down the stairs and into the dungeons. Harry didn't say anything as they moved along, and Draco wasn't exactly inclined to disturbed him; he figured they would have enough to talk about when they got to his room. When he stopped in front his door, the old man in the portrait barely looked up as Draco approached.

"Bilbo Baggins," Draco said, and the man huffed as he swung his frame forward. Draco wasn't exactly sure who the short man with large hairy feet was supposed to be, and the last time he'd asked, the man had stared at him with narrowed eyes until Draco had given up and walked away.

Harry visibly tensed as he stepped into Draco's room, his hands clasping around the hem of his robe and moving to stand as close to the portrait as he could without looking as if he was about to run out the portrait hole. Draco narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Thinking about it, he realized this was the first time Harry had been here. It wasn't that he hadn't offered, it was more along the lines of Harry avoiding the place as if it carried the plague. Draco had never really considered it before, but looking at Harry now, he wondered if he should have.

"Sit down," Draco said. Harry turned his head, looking at him with dark green eyes and didn't bother to move. "Or don't. Just tell me what's going on, no lies and no excuses this time."

Harry sighed, relaxing a fraction, and even in the middle of their argument, Draco still reveled in it. He reveled in the fact that  _he_ could still manage to relax Harry if no one else could.

"Harry," Draco took a single step closer, and he sighed again, deeper this time, sounding tired and defeated. It was nothing of what Draco wanted him to feel but everything that he knew Harry needed to show.

"Blaise was telling me that Hermione and Ron aren't happy with our relationship," Harry flushed and stumbled over the last word, but Draco decided to ignore that for now.

"So? Who cares what they think?"

"It's not about what they think. Apparently, they're planning to  _do_ something about it," Harry said, and anger washed through Draco, hot and cruel and quickly pushed down.

"That's what Blaise told you?" Draco asked, forgoing the obvious questions and figuring he could ask them all later. There were more important things.

"Yes,"

"So, you weren't doing anything… untoward in the bathroom?" Draco asked. Harry's eyes snapped to him, and Draco was sure it was the first time he'd ever seen Harry look like  _that._ Some combination of disgusted and shocked and hurt, and it was enough to know that Harry hadn't even considered doing anything of the sort. Though what he'd thought Draco had thought, Draco had no idea.

"You thought…" Harry started and then trailed off, shaking his head as if he couldn't even finish the thought. "Nice to know I'm that untrustworthy." And Draco almost missed the pain in his voice, covered quickly by anger and flashing green eyes.

"It's not like that,” Draco back tracked, feeling ashamed and angry and knowing he had no right to be. “I wasn't even following you; I just happened to be there when you and Blaise stepped out. Besides, Harry, what exactly am I supposed to think except that you don't want me anymore? You haven't exactly been  _around_  the last few days, much less very open with me,” he paused, his eyes flicking away and then back again. “I didn't  _really_  believe anything had happened, but it's easy to jump to conclusions when you see your boyfriend coming out of an empty bathroom with someone else."

Harry was staring at him, his green eyes wide and open and as vulnerable as Draco had ever seen them. It sent a rippling spasm straight through his chest. Merlin, Harry was  _his. He_ had put that look on his face.  _He_ had opened him up and made him trust Draco enough to show him this.

"I didn't know you felt like that," Harry said, his voice low, barely a whisper across his lips. And Draco almost smiled. He crossed the space between them, putting his hands along Harry's cheekbones and was thrilled when Harry didn't flinch, didn't even look away from his gaze.

And Draco felt like some love-struck fool staring down at him, trying to hold back some stupid nonsensical nonsense that he was sure didn't make any sense whatsoever. But he really didn't care. He'd had his whole life drug away from him without a moment notice, thrust into something he was ill prepared for and had no idea what to do with once. He'd missed so many opportunities that he would never get the chance at again, and he wouldn't make the same mistake again. So, if he had to look like a love-struck fool as he stared down at Harry, he would do it.

"Now where _have_ you been?" Draco asked. "If it wasn't with Blaise, it must have been somewhere." Harry shifted, moving away from Draco and averting his gaze. "Tell me, Harry, it's time I knew." Harry tensed, his muscles taunt as if he was decided whether to run out of the room or not, and Draco wondered if he'd pushed too far. He wondered just how much poking and prodding Harry could take before he rebelled.

Harry's eyes flicked back, dark and conflicted, and he realized Harry  _needed_ him to push just as much as Draco needed to.

"You have to know you can't do this alone," he said. "Just look at yourself. You're not eating; you're not sleeping-."

"I never sleep," Harry answered, and Draco raised an eyebrow. If Harry thought that was supposed to somehow make things better…. Then Harry sighed, that deep mournful sigh again.

"I… I should be able to do it by myself."

"Why?" Draco asked, and Harry turned around to stare at him. He looked shocked, as if Draco had just questioned his entire existence, and maybe he had. "Why can't you have help if you need it? You deserve it as much as the next person, don't you?" And Harry's face darkened as if he found that very much doubtful.

Draco frowned, but said nothing. Now wasn't exactly the time to be questioning Harry's fundamental beliefs about himself. But they  _would_ be having that conversation. Oh, they would. Just as they would have the conversation about what Voldemort had said. And the one about why Harry acted as if touching were some acidic poison. But Draco knew better than to cross some lines to soon.

"Besides, even if you  _should_ that doesn't mean you actually  _can,_ " Draco said and was rewarded by Harry's dubious look.

"I-," he hesitated, and then, "Fine. Fine. There was something Dumbledore told me before he died. Something about how to defeat Voldemort." Draco sighed, though he supposed he really shouldn't have been surprised.

"Sit down, Harry, I think we have a long conversation ahead of us."

Harry looked cautious and embarrassed and determined all in one as he hesitated and then moved across Draco's small living space and stopped before a chair. He sat on the very edge and then turned to face Draco, who'd sunk down on the sofa.

"So?" Draco asked, and Harry took a deep breath and started.

* * *

 

Lupin was leaving Severus' office. Again. It was maybe the third time in the past few days he'd seen Lupin coming or going from Severus' office, which perhaps in and of itself was not a crime but paired with the fact that Severus hated the man, and Lucius himself was not allowed inside, it was… suspicious.

And hurtful.

Not that Lucius would ever admit something so trivial as his  _feelings_ being hurt. But still. He'd had enough.

He paced across the corridor, stopping just outside of Lupin's personal space and making the werewolf turn toward him with a wary expression.

"Yes?" Lupin asked, raising an eyebrow as if he couldn't imagine what Lucius could want.

"What is going on between you and  _Severus_?" Lucius asked, and he was sure to emphasis Severus's name. To let Lupin know that  _he_ was allowed to call Severus by his first name. That Severus belonged to  _him_ , not some werewolf who needed to brush his hair.

"Whatever do you mean," Lupin answered, raising his eyebrows further at Lucius' wrinkled nose.

"Come now, Lupin, we both know you've been spending an inordinate amount of time with our dear headmaster. I just want to know what you've been talking about?"

"You mean you don't know?" Lupin asked, and if he raised his eyebrows any higher, they were going to become part of his ugly brown hair.

"Know  _what?"_  Lucius snapped.

"It's really not my business to say," Lupin shook his head. "You should ask Snape."

"Ask Snape  _what?"_ Lucius answered, but Lupin just waved his hand and started walking away.

"I wondered why he asked me when you were available," Lupin said as if talking to himself. "But perhaps you're not so available." Lucius opened him mouth but by the time he thought of something to say, Lupin was already turning the corner, leaving Lucius to steam beside the gargoyle statue.

"That's enough," Lucius said, conveniently ignoring the fact he was talking to himself. He turned to the gargoyle and spoke the password, watching the way it leaped to life, twisting around to show Lucius the hidden staircase. He climbed up as quickly as he could, his anger and annoyance driving him as they hadn't in a very long time.

Lucius didn't  _let_ his emotions rule him. His father had always taught him it was best to keep a tight rein on his emotions, to show a calm, collected front, to never let anyone know what he was thinking. All that went up in smoke as he climbed; obviously  _Severus_ would rather have an unruly out of control werewolf than him, calm, in control, Lucius.

And perhaps Harry had been right. Perhaps it was his own doing for not being forthright enough with Severus.

He knocked on Severus' office and heard the tell-tale silence and then hesitation that always followed his knock. It was funny; Severus never reacted like that when someone else knocked, not even when Lucius was with him or the other person, but when Lucius knocked, there was always that hesitation.

"Come in," Severus' voice called, and Lucius promptly pushed the door open, shutting it easily behind him. He avoided the chairs as Severus' dark eyes watched him warily, choosing instead to stand right in front of his desk and lean forward onto the palms of his hands.

"What aren't you telling me?" he asked. "What does Lupin know that I don't?" Severus' eyes darkened, and he leaned back in his chair. He was getting ready to either throw Lucius out of his office or insult him.

Lucius took a breath, Harry's words still ringing in his ears. The very idea made him itchy and uncomfortable. Sure, Severus and he had had many conversations Lucius would never have with anyone else, but they had never talked about their  _feelings_. In fact, he was sure the opposite was true; they had avoided the topic as if it carried some disease.

Which, he realized abruptly was the problem. What conclusions must Severus have jumped to when Lucius had refused to talk about how he felt about either him or Narcissa?

"You must know I wish to help you," Lucius said before Severus could speak. And Severus blinked at him, looking surprised and startled for a long moment, before his eyebrows come down over his eyes, and he frowned at Lucius as if waiting for some trap.

"How could I know something like that?"

"Severus, I've only ever-," Lucius started.

"Oh," Severus snapped, interrupted him with his dark eyes flashing in a way Lucius hadn't seen in a long time. "So, all the times you've yelled at me, all the times you've hidden things from me,  _hurt_ me, that was you trying to  _help_?"

"No," Lucius answered, and he was horrified by how small his voice sounded. And suddenly Severus was standing, a deep sense of triumph settling over him.

"Why are you here, Lucius? What is the point of pretending there's anything more to this?"

"Because there  _is_ ," Lucius answered, and Severus flinched back, his face a mask of cold shock. And Lucius was forced to acknowledge just how right Harry had been. Severus really did think he meant nothing to Lucius. "I don't know how you've gotten the idea that you don't matter to me, but-."

"Maybe from the many times you've made it clear," Severus muttered, and Lucius couldn't help but glare at him.

"But you'd be wrong. I'm…" he swallowed harshly, feeling the lump in his throat and refusing to acknowledge it. "I'm in love with you, Severus. I have been since we were in school together."

"But…" Severus was staring at him now, his lips parted as if Lucius had lost his mind, and he was half convinced this had been the wrong thing to do after all. And Merlin, this was why he didn't  _do_ these kinds of things. "But Narcissa." And it was suddenly Lucius’ turn to blink.

"What about her?"

"Weren't you in love with her?"

"What?" Lucius couldn't stop the startled laugh from escaping. "No. We married because our parents wanted it," Lucius sighed heavily. "We married, because I thought you didn't want me."

"When you came to my house," Severus breathed. "To tell me you were to be married…. and I turned you away."

"I thought you knew why I was there."

"I didn't."

"No, obviously not."

"And now?" Severus asked. "You can't have lived with her for so long without…"

"Perhaps I cared for Narcissa, but I never loved her," Lucius stepped around the desk, feeling encouraged when Severus merely watched him and did not moved away as he had been wont to do recently. "Not as I... As I love you."

And he hesitated both because he didn't know what to do in this situation, and because Severus still looked so shocked, still so closed off from him. It only lasted another moment though, and then Severus was leaning forward, their lips smashing together as Lucius met him halfway. He stepped forward, shoving Severus back and delighting in the huff that was breathed into his mouth.

Severus reached for him, and Lucius clutched at his robes, pulling the draping and laying Severus bare before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, I wonder what Lucius and Severus will be doing in the next chapter?? o_o


	9. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry go Horcrux hunting while Severus and Lucius 'bond.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual content ahead

It reminded Severus horribly of the first time he'd slept with Lucius. When he'd thought he was nothing to him. When he thought Lucius would touch and taste and moan and never look at him again. When he'd convinced himself that one night would be enough.

And yet, it was nothing like that.

He let Lucius lead him through the door into his private room, both completely naked as they sprawled on the bed. And then Lucius just stared down at him. And like before Severus had the horrible desire to withdraw. He knew his body was nothing to be proud of. He had no delusions about that, but did Lucius have to draw such attention to it?

Lucius' eyes flicked up to his, his grey eyes catching Severus'. And it was so different from last time, when he'd been drunk and in the throws of passion. Lucius looked… affectionate.

Severus had not even known Lucius could wear such a look.

"I cannot speak for how long I have wanted to do this," he said, and for maybe the first time, Severus believed him. He didn't know how to disbelieve that voice. Raw and full of an emotion that Severus could not fully put a name to.

"Lucius…" he answered, though it was not an answer, and the other man seemed to sense that it was all Severus was capable of at the moment.

Lucius leaned down, his lips colliding with Severus' again, his tongue dancing around the edge of Severus' mouth, his hands skimming up Severus' stomach. He gasped, and Lucius' tongue darted forward, parting his lips and sucking until he felt himself moaning from the pleasure of it.

And this too was so very different from the last time. All the touches, the sensations, the overwhelming feeling of it, was the same, but the way it felt was not. The softness with which Lucius touched him, was not.

He reached up, his own hands tangling in Lucius' long hair and pulling, yanking the braid until the silver-blonde was tumbling down his back and shoulders, blocking them both from the rest of the room, and Lucius was gasping against his mouth as he moved just that little bit closer, so his body was flush against Severus'.

He moaned as Lucius rocked against him, the pleasure pulsing through him. He was not in the habit of letting others touch him, and like last time, when he finally let Lucius do it, it was an explosion of something he was ill prepared for. Lucius pulled away, taking his mouth from Severus' and hovering over him for a moment.

"I want to be inside you," he murmured, and the force of the words struck Severus like a blow. He could not believe Lucius was asking for his permission. He could not believe the pureblood was not simply taking what he wanted.

He stared up at him, feeling the faint smile on his lips, though he hadn't consciously put it there.

"What?" Lucius demanded, an edge of annoyance touching his tone.

"I want you," Severus answered, and he was again surprised by the way Lucius' eyes shone at the words.

Lucius' fingers on his hip were steady, though he could see the way Lucius' hand shook as he drew his wand. He hadn't any idea whether it was from fear or lust, but the idea that Lucius could be overcome by either was foreign to him. And Lucius flicked his wand, casting the lubrication spell before setting it aside again. And then he was reaching down, his fingers tracing around Severus' entrance for half a second before slipping inside. First one, then another, a pause as he looked up through his lashes at Severus.

Severus clenched, unclenched, wiggled and moved away. It had been a long time since anything had gone up there. It had been a long time since he'd  _wanted_ anything to go up there. He forced himself to relax, nodding to Lucius as he added a third finger, stretching as much as he could.

And then Lucius was pulling away, draping Severus' legs over his shoulders and leaning forward over him. He seemed to sense either Severus' anticipation or his fear, because he moved quickly, sheathing himself in one movement before holding still and letting Severus adjust around him.

After a moment, Severus nodded again, and Lucius was moving, rocking inside him, and after another minute, Lucius was brushing against his prostate, and Severus was keening and tightening his heels against Lucius' back. He could feel the desire and the lust racing through him, and he knew he wouldn't be long.

Lucius rolled his hips once, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out, twice, he heard a moan from somewhere far away and registered somewhere in the back of his mind that it must be him, three times brushing against Severus' prostate, and then there was a fourth and he couldn't stop himself any longer, coming against Lucius' and his own chest and letting out a long breath as he did.

And Lucius grunted, about as undignified a sound as Severus had ever heard, and he was suddenly following Severus over the edge, collapsing against him and laying his forehead against his collarbone.

They panted against each other for a long minute, neither of them bothering to move. And Severus wondered how he had missed  _that_  when he prided himself on being so observant.

* * *

He remembered his father's face when Voldemort had found out he'd failed at the department of mysteries. He remembered his father limping for days afterward, wincing when he moved. He remembered his mother setting out the pain potions after the torture sessions. He remembered the both of them being careful not to mention anything to him, but he knew.

And he remembered the look on his mother's face when Voldemort asked a price his parents weren't willing to pay. They both knew Draco wouldn't succeed if they sent him to Hogwarts on an assassination. And so they switched, turned around, did a 180 on whose side they were on.

He'd understood it, but he hadn't liked it. There had been no one among the order who Draco particularly liked. In fact, there were some he hated. But he hadn't wanted to die.

And then it had almost been worse. He could still remember his father's words ringing in his ears about werewolves.

"Never let one of them near you," he'd said, and he'd been so sure, so confident that there had been no arguing with him. "Never forget that they are less than us, Draco."

But then Lucius had lied to him. Lucius had lied to him as he had thought Lucius would never lie to him. And perhaps that meant he had lied about other things as well. Things that he was more than willing to accept as not true if he were to not hate himself.

And then there had been Potter. Potter, who he had been trained to hate. Potter, who had been there for him when his father wasn't. Harry, who—while he could be an arsehole—had not treated him as if he being a werewolf made him less than. Harry, who had never seemed to lie.

* * *

Harry had told Draco everything Dumbledore had told him about Horcruxes. Well, except that Harry himself had been one. It was a strange feeling, the openness that came with the truth between them. He would have said he hated it, but he wasn't entirely sure that was true.

But it still felt strange. Different. Something he was entirely unused to. Uncomfortable.

"And you think Lovegood can get the Grey Lady to talk?" Draco asked, trailing behind him as Harry walked through the halls. He could tell by Draco's tone that he wanted to talk, but Harry really didn't have it in him to keep spilling his guts.

"I don't know," Harry answered, and at Draco's dissatisfied grunt forced himself to continue. "Lucius seemed to think so."

"I can't believe you asked my father for help before talking to me," Draco grumbled, and Harry  _really_ didn't want to have  _that_ conversation right now.

"She'll probably be in the library," he said, taking the stairs down and ignoring Draco as best as he could. Fortunately, Draco just sighed and continued to follow him.

Lovegood was in the library, scribbling on a piece of parchment while reading some magazine upside down. She had her usually glasses on, the frames flaring out with silly designs, and she took more than a minute to look up when Harry called her name.

"Oh!" she answered, smiling distractedly. "Harry, Malfoy. What're you doing here?"

"What do you mean?" Draco narrowed his eyes. "It's the library, public space." And Lovegood's serene smile didn't even waver as she looked from Harry to Draco and then back again.

"I, uh," Harry shifted, "I need your… help." Draco gave him a sidelong look as he almost chocked on the word, but it wasn't as if Harry was in the business of asking for help in his everyday life. He didn't need it. He didn't want it. He could handle things on his own, just like he'd been doing since Cedric died.

And he hated that he was having to ask for help now.

"Sure," Lovegood said lightly, jumping up from her seat and slapping her magazine closed.

"What?" Harry answered.

"I'll help."

"But you don't even know what I'm going to ask you."

"Then you'll have to tell me," Lovegood smiled brightly as if the matter was solved. He looked at Draco, who just shook his head once before gesturing for Harry to lead the way out of the library.

* * *

They were sprawled across the bed, completely naked, Lucius’ head cradled across Severus chest, his hair a tangled mess around their bodies. They were both relaxed, comfortable, waiting for the other to be ready for the next round.

“Why did you not tell me?” Severus asked, his hand flat against Lucius’ lower back, dangerously close to his rear.

“I thought you knew,” Lucius answered, resisting the urge to sigh. He supposed it was better to speak of this now than later. Still, it was… embarrassing. And Malfoys were not supposed to be embarrassed. “It seemed obvious to me.” He watched as Severus’ eyes flicked up and then down, dangerously close to an eye roll.

“Only you would consider that obvious,” Severus said, his thumb stroking down the cleft of Lucius butt and then back up again. He let out a muffled gasp, arching his back, and pressing himself against Severus. He could already feel the heat pooling in his cock again, though he was nowhere near ready for round two.

“And what about you?” Lucius answered. _“You_ rejected _me_.”

“I thought-.”

“And why was Lupin here?” Lucius demanded, speaking before fully thinking about the words, and he conveniently ignored how his voice was high and whining in the air between them. Severus tilted his head, staring down at Lucius with dark eyes that were just a touch amused.

“You’re jealous of Remus Lupin?”

“I said no such thing!” Lucius snapped, sitting up, one hand balanced on Severus chest as he did. Severus’ hand fell away from his back, and he could already feel the loss of warmth travel through him.

“Theodore Nott threatened me,” Severus said, his amusement dropping as he spoke. “I required Lupin’s assistance.”

“You could have asked me.”

“I know that now,” Severus answered, his dark eyes intense on Lucius face. And Lucius was leaning down, brushing his lips against Severus’ cheekbones, his nose, the corner of one lip before taking hold of his mouth. When he broke away, he looked Severus straight in the eyes when he spoke, ignoring Severus’ flushed chest and cocked eyebrow.

“From now on, you ask _me_ for help with your problems.”

* * *

"Wait, what?" Draco replied. And Lovegood blinked over at him as if the answer should have been obvious by now. And he supposed it should have, but that didn't make him any less frustrated or confused. "The Diadem's in the room of what?" he asked.

"Requirement, Draco," Harry answered, looking somewhere between annoyed and exasperated. "I really should have been able to guess without the Grey Lady's help."

Neither of them offered any other explanation as they continued walking up the stairs, leading—actually, Draco didn't know where they were leading him. He just knew they were both acting as if the answer was completely obvious, and it was most assuredly  _not_.

Lovegood  _had_ been able to talk the Grey Lady around, saying some nonsense to her that apparently was reassuring, and in return she'd said some nonsense in return about asking and knowing, and apparently Draco had been the only one lost between the three of them. Which was _fine_ except that when either Lovegood or Harry tried to explain it to him, they both started talking more nonsense instead of really explaining.

"Here," Lovegood stopped abruptly, somewhere along a third-floor corridor.

"Where?" Draco answered. They both ignored him as Lovegood started pacing back and forth, muttering something under her breath as she went. Harry watched her with a dark expression. His green eyes were drawn with deep shadows under them from nights of not sleeping. His clothes hung off his frame an uncomfortable amount.

Harry had always been skinny but recently he'd moved from skinny to emaciated. And Draco hated that he'd let Harry get to this point. That he hadn't been paying more attention.

No, it wasn't that he hadn't been paying attention. He'd seen, it was just that he'd been hurt that Harry wasn't talking to him. As if he expected one success to make Harry suddenly trust him explicitly.

"Harry-," he started; Harry just gave him a startled look from the corner of his eyes and turned away. He'd reacted the same way every time Draco had started speaking in the same tone since they'd had their talk. And Draco was on the verge of grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him.

After the third time Lovegood passed the center of the corridor, she stopped, and Draco watched as a door began to appear along the wall. It was large and ornate and moved aside easily when Lovegood pushed on it. When they stepped inside, the room was huge and filled to the brim with garbage. There were obvious pathways everywhere but where they're weren't pathways, there were mountains and mountains of junk on top of junk, and Draco wondered belatedly how they were ever going to find one single Diadem in the mess.

"I don't suppose you could  _accio_  it or something," Draco asked, though he figured that was a long shot. Harry frowned at him.

"I don't know," he answered, hesitantly pulling his wand out. "Maybe;  _Accio Horcrux_ ," he muttered, and nothing happened. Draco sighed as Harry lowered his wand.

"Well, what do you normally do?" Lovegood asked, tilting her head at them.

"I don't usually hunt them. That was Dumbledore's thing."

"Hmm," she hummed, which Draco didn't exactly find helpful.

"We'd better start looking then," he said.

Lovegood was already moving off to the left, and Draco could only hope that she was actually looking for the right thing. Harry looked at him once before heading to a different towering pile of junk. Draco followed him purely on principle.

"Why didn't you use this room for your DA group thing last year?" Draco asked, watching as Harry stepped up on the second level of the tower. "You said it opens into whatever you want it to be, right?"

"I wasn't actually involved in that," Harry answered.

"What?"

"Granger and Weasley wanted my help, and I said no," he said, picking up a big twisted piece of metal that Draco had no idea what it was. Harry made a face and threw it over his shoulder. "I don't really know very much about what happened with the DA."

"So, every time Umbridge brought you in, and you acted innocent..."

"Yeah, that wasn't an act," he sighed. "Don't get me wrong. I didn't like Umbridge, but it was really more inconvenient than anything."

"Hmm," Draco answered, reaching up to take the gold bowl from Harry's hands.

They searched for what felt like hours. They looked through pile after pile after pile. Draco could feel Harry get more frustrated every time they came up empty handed. He could tell Harry was reaching his breaking point as they worked their way down the rows and still had nothing to show for it. After Harry let out a loud groan and threw down the necklace he'd been holding, Draco called a stop.

"Why don't we come back tomorrow?" he said. Lovegood looked up from where she'd been working a little way away, humming over a jewelry box.

"We don't have time to come back tomorrow," Harry snapped, kicking the necklace he'd just dropped. "We don't even have time to be  _looking_ like this!"

"Harry!"

"Merlin! I should be able to sense it or feel it or whatever, but I keep getting nothing. It's all a big nothing in my head, and that should be a good thing except it's  _not!"_

"I-What?" Draco answered, and Harry stuttered, blinking at him as if just realizing what he'd said. He turned away, blushing, and Draco knew he couldn't—shouldn't just let this pass without saying something. "Luna, would you give us a minute?"

"Huh, oh sure," she muttered, and wandered off to who knew where and leaving them alone.

"Harry Potter, what are you talking about?"

"I was just-."

"No!" Draco snapped. "No more lies." Harry looked at him for a long minute, green eyes tight on his face, and Draco could almost  _feel_ the battle of wills that passed between them, but he was determined not to lose.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Harry turned his head away. "It ended when Voldemort killed me." And Draco had to resist the urge to flinch at those words, at the way Harry said them—as if they meant nothing to him when they meant everything to Draco.

"Tell me anyway."

"I…" and still he hesitated. And it burned Draco up. There weren't words for how it burned Draco up. Sure, Harry had told him a lot—probably more than he'd ever told anyone—Draco  _knew_ that. He knew that Harry didn't trust easily. But it hurt that after everything, Harry was still standing in front of him with secrets that he thought he couldn't share with Draco.

Secrets that were obviously tearing him up inside.

"Tell me, Harry," he said, and the words seemed to release something in Harry, letting the secret out like a wave.

"Dumbledore told me that I was one of the Horcruxes. Since Voldemort's curse backfired, I had a part of his soul buried in me. It let me sense the Horcruxes, look into Voldemort's mind, and he even sometimes invaded my dreams. Dumbledore said that I would have to die for Voldemort to die, that I would have to die by Voldemort's hand," Harry answered, and several things clicked together in Draco's mind.

"That's why you let him kill you," he said, and was horrified when his voice came out a gasping little whisper. Harry just turned his face further away as if he couldn't bear to look at Draco, which was infuriating. Well, the whole situation was infuriating. And Draco knew he shouldn't be mad at Harry, but he was. He was beyond angry at him.

He stepped forward, taking Harry's chin in his hand and pulling his face back around until green eyes met his again. Harry look up at him, startled and harassed, though Draco supposed he hadn't flinched when Draco had reached out, which was progress.

"Did you know you would come back?" he asked, and he'd asked the question before, on top of the astronomy tower in the heat of the same emotions, but back then Harry hadn't been looking at him as he was now.

"No," he whispered, and Draco had to make an effort not to either slap him, himself, or simply howl in pain.

"How could you do that? How could you…." he didn't get the sentence out, instead his hand slipping down Harry's neck and back, cradling and pulling. Harry tensed in Draco's arms, but he still made no effort to pull away as Draco wrapped himself around him. Draco wondered vaguely if Harry had ever really  _been_ hugged. They'd certainly never done it before, and Severus had never been one for hugging. With the way Harry was reacting, Draco would say no.

"Don't ever do that again," Draco told him, and Harry shifted against him, making no move to return the embrace, but he did lean into Draco. "Promise me you won't ever do that again,” he whispered in Harry unruly hair.

"I can't make that promise."

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep it for you," Draco answered, and he felt Harry’s frown against his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your wonderful reviews!


	10. Their Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco talk and things get a little more intense than planned. Because not everything can be as fluffy as last chapter. *insert evil laugh from author*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Implied references to sexual abuse.

They were back in Draco's room, which wouldn't have been Harry's first choice, but he hadn't known how to tell Draco no when they'd left the room of requirement. He was perched on the very edge of the hard chair. The same chair he'd sat in the last time he'd been in Draco's room. For some reason, the chair felt safe, as if it was the only thing in the room he was allowed to touch.

They'd left Lovegood just outside the room. She'd waved cheerily behind her before heading off in the opposite direction of them, and Draco had taken one look at Harry and seemed to decide they weren't done talking. And Harry didn't exactly appreciate the sentiment.

"So, when Voldemort killed you…" Draco trailed off, his silver-grey eyes flicking over Harry's face.

"He killed the part of his soul that was inside me," he answered, half-way to hoping that would be the end of the conversation. Because really, what more did Draco want to know.

"So, no more dreams of looking into his mind or…"

"No," Harry shifted, his hands clasped in his lap, and he could feel Draco's critical eyes on him. "It makes it hard for me to find the Horcruxes."

"Which you didn't think about, because you thought you'd be dead," Draco answered, to which Harry didn't answer, because Draco already knew the answer. They both already knew the answer. And he didn’t understand why they were still going over this.

"We should-," Harry started just to end the tension in the room, but Draco was already talking over him, apparently having anticipated how he would change the subject.

"Why did you come back?"

"What?" Harry asked, eyes flying up to meet Draco's.

"When you came back to life. Did Dumbledore just make you or-?"

"I chose," Harry answered, and Draco was staring at him. Silver-grey eyes intense on his face in a way that Harry couldn't decide whether was pleasant or not. "Dumbledore offered me a choice, and I chose to come back."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Harry asked, though he  _knew_ what Draco was asking. He  _knew_ what Draco wanted to hear, what he wanted Harry to say. He just didn't know if he  _could_ say it.

"Well, you don't exactly seem like you  _want_ to be here. You don't eat; you don't sleep; you don't talk. You walk around like a fucking zombie half the time, so I'm left wondering what exactly you came back for." And Draco was still staring at him, waiting for an answer that Harry didn't know if he could give. He looked down at his hands, twisted on his lap and did what he always did when he didn't know whether to run or not. He lied.

"I don't know."

"You don't know," Draco scoffed. "Come on, Harry, usually you're a little bit convincing when you come up with an excuse for something."

"Just leave it alone, Draco," Harry snapped, standing abruptly. And suddenly the chair didn't feel so safe anymore. The room didn't feel so safe. Well, the room had never felt safe in the first place.

"No," and Draco was standing too, moving much too close. And Harry could feel Draco's breath flick across his cheekbone as he took another step forward. And he was shivering, and it wasn't from fear, and he should have been wishing Draco would back away, but he was wishing Draco would come closer. And he was wishing Draco would put his arms around him as he'd done when they'd been in the room of requirement.

Which was  _wrong_. He knew it was wrong, except it didn’t feel wrong.

"Not this time, Harry," Draco said, and his voice was low and hoarse, and Harry felt horribly lightheaded all of the sudden. He turned his head just as Draco was stepping even closer, leaving no space between them anymore. "Tell me."

"You," Harry whispered, and he watched as his own breath blew across Draco's face.

"What?" Draco blinked, silver-grey eyes locked on Harry's.

"Dumbledore told me I'd broken your heart."

"And why would you care about that?"

"I don't know. I didn't know I hadn't stopped caring about other people a long time ago."

"But…?" Draco asked, and it was so obvious he was waiting for something Harry didn’t know if he could give.

"But I…" Harry tried to look away, but Draco caught his chin—the same way he had in the room of requirement—and it should have felt threatening or at least wrong, but for some reason it just didn't. "I care about you," and if the heat in his cheeks was anything to go by, he was blushing bright red, and  _that_ at least should have been enough to send Harry running away, but somehow it wasn't.

"Hmm," Draco answered.

"What?" Harry snapped. "That's it? Do you have any idea how hard that-?"

Then Draco was kissing him, and Harry made a startled noise in the back of his throat. He almost jerked his head back, but Draco's hand was on the back of his neck, holding him in place. His mouth was gentle, putting a bare amount of pressure on his as Harry relaxed against the kiss.

He felt his hands raising before he really knew what he was doing, mimicking the motions Draco had done with them the last time they'd kissed. He reached up, arms wrapping around Draco's neck, and realizing only a moment later that Draco's arms were around him in return.

His lips moved against Draco's, quicker than before, rawer. He felt something warm, wet press against his bottom lip and was opening his mouth before he really thought about what he was doing. Draco moaned low in his throat as his tongue went into Harry's mouth.

He froze. The sound moving through him like a splash of ice water. How many times had he heard Vernon make that sound above him?

Inside him?

Draco's hand stroked up his back, obviously feeling Harry tense. His tongue stroked slowly along Harry's, sending a flare of heat all along his body, and Harry was leaning back into him, pushing away the memories. This was Draco. This was Draco. This was  _Draco_. And it felt so good, the passion and the pleasure spiraling through him.

And it was all suddenly too much. His back was against the wall, Draco pressed against his front, and he didn't remember how he'd gotten there. His tongue was inside Harry's mouth, his hand in his hair, and Harry could feel something long and hard pressed against something equally hard on Harry.

He tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go, and the panic rushed through him, cold and strong. He yanked his mouth away, pushing weakly, but Draco either didn't notice or didn't understand.

"St-stop-p," he tried, but his voice was a low whisper of sound that even he had a hard time hearing. Draco's mouth was on his throat now, both their breaths coming faster than before. " _Draco,_ " he said, and when he pushed again, this time Draco actually pulled away, raising his head to look up at Harry's face. "Please, stop."

And it was only by the look on Draco's face that he realized he must have been crying.

"Merlin," Draco was suddenly several feet away from him, looking stricken, and in some horrible way that felt… wrong. He hadn't wanted Draco to leave, he had just wanted him to stop for one second. Had just wanted to be able to breathe. "Harry, I didn't mean… I was… I'm  _sorry_ …"

"I…" Harry tried, but his voice broke on the word, and he felt pathetic and weak, and he  _hated_ it. He bowed his head, his hair falling in his eyes as he did.

He knew he was still crying. He could feel the coolness on his face where the tears were falling, but that didn't mean he had to acknowledge them. He didn't have to acknowledge any of it. He pushed off the wall, raising his head to Draco's but keeping his gaze firmly away.

"I think I'm going to go now," he said, and Draco didn't say anything as he headed toward the door.

* * *

Lucius had made tea, which they had finally gotten around to drinking. Really, if Lucius had known Severus was so keen on sex, he would have confessed to his feelings a long time ago. As it was, they both only had so much endurance.

He was perched on the arm of Severus' chair—drinking tea and pretending as if he wasn't trying to be sexy while Severus pretended he wasn't interested—when the knock on the door sounded. He exchanged a look with Severus and then sighed. He supposed they couldn't ignore the world forever.

"Come in," Severus called, lowering his tea to the table in front of him as Lucius sat himself down in a separate chair. At least, they were both dressed.

Draco was in the room within seconds. He didn't blink at their skewed appearance, which immediately put Lucius on his guard. Draco himself looked ill, cheeks flushed, eyes dark. He had the same look on his face as he did when he broke something of immense value to either Lucius or Narcissa.

"Draco?" he said, already standing.

"Father, I-," he broke off, his eyes flicking once to Severus and then to ground. "I've messed up."

* * *

Harry had just reached the third floor when Ginny ambushed him. It wasn't that he wasn't fine, because he was. He was  _perfectly_   _fine_. He was just… distracted. And he didn't need little girls trying to talk to him.

He'd been heading to the room of requirement, looking to start searching for the diadem. If Draco hadn't interrupted him, he would probably have already found the thing—it wasn't as if he'd  _needed_ the help in the first place. He could still feel the dried lines on his face where the tear tracks had been, and Harry hated how it made him feel. Hated how much he still wished Draco hadn't let him walk away.

Suddenly there were footsteps behind him, sharp and loud, and he should have known Draco would never make that much noise. But he'd turned, and he'd looked anyway, and it had been long bright red hair and wide blue eyes in his face instead.

"Harry," she said, frowning at the way he half turned away from her.

"What?" he answered, and even she couldn't mistake the snap in his tone.

"Harry, are you alright? You look-."

"I look what?" he hissed, turning back toward her. She stood her ground, blue eyes intense on his face. It was unnerving to be looked at so forcefully. Draco never looked at him like that; he always looked at Harry as if baiting a response, waiting for the next attack.

And Draco wasn't always the gentlest person, but he was better than the way Weasley was looking at him. As if Harry had no idea what he was talking about, and he needed her to tell him. As if he was broken. As if he was broken, and only she could fix him.

"You don't need to act like this, Harry," she said, and she was stepping closer; her eyes still hard on him, almost gentle now. And she was reaching for him, and the very  _idea_ of her touching him made him feel as if something was climbing its way out of his throat.

He was not broken. He  _wasn't_.

And he could feel the sting of something behind his eyes again as she stood there, and it  _hurt_.

And he just wanted it to stop _._

"Don't even touch me," he recoiled from her, stepping away. He didn't miss her pained look as he sneered at her. "What? You think I would want  _you_? You're  _disgusting._ " He took another step away, wondering vaguely if she could see how he was trembling. "Don't come near me. Honestly, Weasley, you disgust me."

She didn't follow him as he turned and made his way down the corridor away from her, heading for the room of requirement. He was going to find the fucking diadem if it was the last thing he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter, but this was were everything fir together. So sorry! Thanks for reading, and your amazing reviews!


	11. Found Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco asks for help.

"The way he was looking at me..." Draco said. "I should have realized he was trying to push me away sooner, but I just couldn't... I couldn't think past the growling in my head, the-the lust. I couldn't..." he trailed off, finally raising his eyes to look over at Severus and Lucius.

They’d sat in silence for a long minute after he'd finished telling them what had happened. Severus was still staring out the window as if he'd heard nothing of what Draco had said, and Lucius was drinking his tea slowly, carefully, looking down into the cup as if it held the answer to the universe.

The whole thing was worse than an explosion.

"Where did he go?" Severus asked after a long minute, and when he turned his head to look at Draco, he could see the barely controlled anger bubbling just under the surface. Draco somehow wished Severus would just yell at him.

"I-I don't know," Draco answered, and Severus sighed, raising one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"You just let him wonder off alone in that state?"

"I-I didn't-."

"Do you have any  _idea_ what he could do to himself!" he snapped, and Draco flinched back from his glare.

"Severus," Draco's father's voice was quiet, his eyes still firmly locked on the contents of his teacup. "Draco did nothing wrong."

"He lost control-."

"He stopped as soon as he realized," his father interrupted, finally looking up. He met Severus' stormy eyes with a levelness that surprised Draco.

And as much as he appreciated his father's support, he knew Severus was right. He'd lost control of himself. He remembered the werewolf inside of him, growling and pushing him to claim and mark and touch, and he'd barely controlled it, even when Harry had pushed him away, even when he'd been begging Draco to stop with tears in his eyes. And Draco had never seen Harry look like that before. And he didn't want to ever again.

"Father-," he started, but he was ignored.

"He should talk to Lupin before it becomes too much for him," Severus said, and Lucius scowled at him, lips turning down sharply.

"My son does not need that man's  _help_."

"You would let you prejudice endanger Draco's life?"

"Father-," Draco tried again.

"Silence, Draco," Lucius answered, and Draco could tell by his tone that he would get nowhere by arguing. Severus stared at Lucius for another minute before turning his face away, eyes hard.

"Very well, then. I will take my leave," he rose, his robes moving around him as he did. "I must look for Harry." And then he was out the door, Lucius' eyes following him as he went.

"He'll come around," Lucius said, though Draco didn't know if he was talking to him or himself.

"Of course, Father," Draco said, meeting his father's eyes for half a second before turning away.

But in his head, he was determined. Determined not to leave it alone. Determined to speak to Lupin. Determined to get answers.

He would never find himself in the position to hurt Harry ever again. He would make sure of it.

* * *

Harry didn't know how long he searched. He didn't know how long he was lost between the aisles of the room of requirement. It could have been minutes or hours. Merlin, it could have been days. It didn't matter. This time, he wasn't going to leave until he'd found the diadem.

And find it he did. It wasn't even that hard once he started listening. It radiated the same power Salazar Slytherin's ring had, and even without having a connection to Voldemort, Harry could feel the power calling out, seeking to kill, and destroy. It didn't call to him directly this time, but he could still  _feel_ it. The same way he imagined Dumbledore had been able to feel the ring calling out with power.

He held the diadem in his hand for a long time, trying to decide what he would do with the thing. He'd destroyed his first horcrux—Tom Riddle's diary—with a basilisk’s help, something he probably wasn’t about to come upon again, and he didn't know how Dumbledore had destroyed the ring. He'd never asked, because he'd never really thought it'd be his problem to deal with.

Well, his mistake.

* * *

Draco felt… lost. He felt like he was admitting defeat by being here. It wasn't the fact that he was asking for help. No, he'd done that plenty of times before. And no matter how rare those occasions had been, he knew he could do it. It was the fact that he was  _here_ specifically. Standing on the threshold of Lupin's office, trying to decide whether he should go in, and he felt like a fool for even considering it at all.

He should just trust his father, shouldn’t he? He should just trust himself. But then even his own conscience was telling him that he couldn't handle his werewolf side on his own anymore. Besides, the fact that Severus had agreed with him. And if Severus had suggested reaching out to Lupin then Draco could only assume that it was serious.

But he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was giving something profound up by being here. By asking for Lupin's help. Like he was admitting he wasn't strong enough.

He sighed, reaching for the door handle. It didn't matter. This was for Harry. For Harry, he couldn't have another werewolf meltdown. And if that meant being weak, then he supposed he would have to do it.

Lupin looked up as soon as the door swung forward, open surprise on his face. Draco couldn't help comparing him to Lucius or Severus. They would never have been caught dead looking surprised, even if they had felt it. He wondered if Lupin really hadn't felt him hovering outside his door for so long, or if he was just pretending to try and make Draco feel at ease.

It didn't work.

"Draco," he said, half standing. "Do you need something?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," he answered, and Lupin's eyebrows furrowed. He came further into the room, keep a good couple of meters between himself and Lupin.

"I suppose," Lupin said, and they were standing and staring at each other, and Draco supposed he should to be asking what he wanted to ask, but he just couldn't.

"Is this about the paper I assigned you this week?" Lupin asked, but Draco could tell by the way he tilted his head that he knew that wasn't the case. He wondered vaguely why Lupin was being dense. Did he really want to hear Draco say why he was here so badly?

"No."

"Oh?"

"I…" his voice trailed off, and there was a long awkward beat of silence, before Lupin spoke.

"Then why _are_ you here, Draco?"

"I…" he trailed off again, eyes flicking away before he could get the sentence out. Lupin sighed heavily, sitting down and gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

"Why don't you sit? I have a feeling we're going to be here for a while."

"I don't want to sit."

"Then stand," Lupin answered easily. "But you can't avoid this conversation forever," he paused, but Draco still said nothing. "I suppose you're here about the full moon next week?"

"I-," Draco started and then let out a breath. This, at least, was easier. "Yes," he took a few careful steps forward, coming close enough to talk comfortably with Lupin but still refusing to sit.

"You've already been through two full moons, I'm sure you have an idea of what to expect. Why come to me now?"

"I wanted to ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you take the Wolfsbane?" he asked, and Lupin raised one dark eyebrow at him, but Draco held his gaze. Lupin could judge him if he wanted, but Draco needed to know the answer.

"Because I never wanted to hurt anyone."

"And have you? Ever hurt anyone?"

"Of course," Lupin answered in a low puff of breath, and he sounded tired. Tired and ashamed, and Draco almost felt bad asking. "There are always accidents."

"But does it really help?" Draco asked, his feet leading him forward without him really realizing. "If you take the Wolfsbane, and you still hurt people-."

"Why are you asking me this?" Lupin interrupted, his eyes sharp on Draco’s face. "From what I understand, you had no desire to take the potion. And as far as I know, your past two transformations were rather smooth, aside from the impending Death Eater attack."

Draco couldn't stop himself from turning away from Lupin on that. Sure, they'd been smooth. Except when he wasn't thinking clearly and tried to kiss Harry, and then again when he’d almost attacked Harry, Severus, and his father, because he was about to change. But other than that, peachy.

"I just want to know."

"What is this really about, Draco?" Lupin leaned forward, his elbows on the desk. "You can tell me the truth; whatever you're going through, I've been through it too." And there was a long pause, where Lupin just stared at him, and Draco refused to look back, and he didn't know if he should tell Lupin or not—didn't know if he even  _could._

"Does this have something to do with Harry?" Lupin asked, his voice low and tense, and Draco was nodding before he could stop himself, ducking his head. And he felt ashamed but no long sure of what.

"I can't control myself around him. When he's around it's like…. the anger or the lust just-."

"Ah," Lupin said, and he almost sounded disappointed. "You've imprinted."

"What?" Draco's head jerked up.

"You feel overwhelming jealousy, anger, lust when you're touching. Maybe even anxiety when you don't know where he is?" Lupin asked, and Draco just turned his head away. "It's the werewolf side of you claiming Harry as your mate."

"What? But-."

"Obviously, you're not mated yet, but he's who you've chosen,” Lupin said, the pity clear on his face.

"And what am I supposed to do?" Draco asked, and he felt like he was drowning. How was he supposed to tell Harry that? How was he supposed to tell his father? Severus? Merlin, Severus was going to-

"You can't really  _do_  anything. You can learn to control it, but it'll never go away. Werewolves mate for life," Lupin answered, and his eyes were soft as he looked back at him. Draco got the feeling there was a story behind that statement, behind the look of sadness in his eyes, but Draco was too deep on his own panic to acknowledge it.

"But we're not mated," he said, and Lupin just shrugged, as if that tiny fact was inconsequential, and Draco wasn't sure if them being mated was a good thing or a bad thing.

* * *

Severus found Harry somewhere on his way back from the room of requirement. He was gripping the diadem between his hands so hard, his knuckles were beginning to hurt. And he could tell from the way Severus was looking at him that he knew. And Harry didn't think he could take the same pity he'd seen from Weasley in Severus' eyes.

"What are you doing?" Severus asked.

"Walking, and what are you doing?" he answered, ignoring the way Severus frowned at him. "Besides, bothering me, that is."

"What do you have?"

"Nothing."

"Really?" Severus answered, and his eyebrows raised in that disbelieving way that Harry hated. And he really just wanted to be left alone, but somehow, he knew that Severus wasn't going to do that. Not this time. No matter how hard Harry pushed.

"Yes," he snapped.

"Don't be a child, Potter," Severus answered, one eyebrow raised. "Tell me what's going on." And was enough to snap what little self-control Harry had left.

"I'm not weak," he said, and Severus' eyebrow rose even higher.

"I never said you were."

"Except that everyone keeps looking at me like I'm going to break," Harry snapped, and he was trying. He was trying so hard to be angry. To be angry or furious or anything but hurt or scared, but he just couldn't summon the emotion. And it was worse that Severus seemed to know it.

"Draco… He-, and then Weasley acted like I was so broken I was acting irrationally," and part of him knew he  _sounded_  irrational, but he wasn't broken. He wasn't. "I'm not weak," he told Severus again. As if saying it would somehow convince everyone around him, when he knew he was walking around crying and spouting feelings and being hurt by the littlest words. "I'm not broken."

"No," Severus answered, and there was a look in his eyes that Harry hadn't seen before as he answered. Dark and sad, and Harry imagined it was the same way Severus had looked on those nights he'd shut him out. "You're not weak, and you're not broken," Severus paused, looking down at him so seriously Harry felt the need to run. Just turn around and run before he had to face whatever Severus would say to him, whatever Severus would make him face. "But that doesn't mean you don't need help."

"I don't want help," Harry answered, and he felt like he was choking.

"That doesn't mean you don't need it," Severus said. Harry was choking on his tears, and the trembling of his hands, and the way Severus was looking at him—not in pity but in understanding. And it  _hurt_.

"I just want it to stop."

"I know, but what you want and what you need are two different things right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your reviews!


	12. Forgive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco apologizes, and Harry-in his own way-tells him that there's nothing for him to forgive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is late! I had it all ready then Tuesday passed and posting just slipped my mind. Anyway, hope you enjoy and there will be the regular post on tomorrow!

"Draco isn't really saying anything," Blaise answered, his eyes flicking over first Granger and then Weasley. "I've heard the same rumors as you have, but he's been closed mouthed about all of it."

"That seems like a confirmation to me," Granger said. "Maybe Ginny was more convincing than she thought."

"Wait, what?" Blaise asked. "Ginny Weasley? What does she have to do with Potter and Draco not talking?"

"Nothing," Weasley snapped.

"Because it's just rumor, right now," Blaise said, ignoring how bitter the words tasted in his mouth. "They might be fine, and everyone's just talking." It wasn't that Blaise didn't  _want_ Draco's relationship to be fine or anything, it was just that he wished it wasn't Potter that Draco’s relationship appeared to be fine with.

"Or maybe there's something else going on entirely," Theodore Nott's voice sounded, and Blaise wasn't the only one who jumped at the sound. Granger turned to face him abruptly, pivoting on her foot to stare at him with wide eyes. Weasley half drew his wand, and Blaise had to refrain from snickering out the question of what exactly Weasley was going to  _do_ as he glared at Nott with narrowed eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Blaise asked, too used to Nott's behavior to be anything but annoyed by him.

Nott smiled thinly, looking much too pleased with himself for Blaise's comfort.

* * *

"Dumbledore told you this?" Severus asked. His eyes still locked on the diadem that was resting on the on the edge of his desk, just out of his reach. Harry had put it there on purpose, and Severus hadn't tried to touch it once he'd started talking.

"Yes," Harry said. He'd explained about the Horcruxes; enough to be enough without being too much, and he still felt horribly exposed—out in the open. Severus hadn't said anything else about Harry's breakdown, leading Harry up to the headmaster's office and letting him talk about secrets and Horcruxes rather than himself. Still, he knew Severus wouldn't leave it alone for long.

"But he didn't tell you how to destroy them?" he asked. Harry just shook his head, and Severus pressed his lips together, eyes still locked on the diadem. When he spoke again, his voice was low as it was when he was thinking hard about something. "You said the ring you found was a Horcrux?"

"Yes, but Dumbledore never told me what he did with it."

"Dumbledore asked me to make a poison for him. Very rare and very expensive. I thought it was strange at the time, but he wasn't forthcoming with information."

"You think he used it to destroy the ring? But-."

"It's a concentrated form of artificial basilisk venom," Severus interrupted, and Harry could see the wheels turning in his mind.

"The journal my second year. It was Horcrux," he said. "And a Basilisk fang destroyed it."

"Which, I suppose, is why he thought the poison might work."

"But how do we know if it actually did or not?"

"We make another batch," Severus gestured at the diadem, flicking his eyes away and locking back onto Harry. "And we test it."

"How soon can you make it?" Harry asked, sitting forward. And he felt…. He actually had a way forward. He'd found one of the Horcruxes. He'd found it without being connected to Voldemort at all. He'd found it and now he had a way to destroy it, and it would all be over soon, and he could-

"I don't know. The ingredients are hard to come by, and the potion itself takes a good month to brew," Severus answered, and Harry nodded, the feeling gone as fast as it had appeared. "I should speak to Lucius," Severus muttered, almost to himself. "He'll have more connections, more ideas about where to go for the ingredients."

"Alright," Harry said, and Severus looked at him sharply.

"A quick solution isn't a better solution, Harry," Severus said, and Harry knew that; he did. He just didn't know how to say that he was tired of trying. He'd given up for so long, he didn't know how to care without hurting anymore, and he was tired of it.

"You should talk to Draco," Severus said. "He's worried about you."

"Right."

"You know the next full moon is next week?"

"I know," he answered, and Severus just stared at him for a long minute before speaking again.

"What will you do with it?" he waved vaguely at the diadem.

"I don't know. I don't trust it to be left alone."

"Hmm," Severus answered, his lip already curling as he spoke. "I suppose you should leave it here. I'll make sure no one else touches it."

"Right," Harry said, though he could tell how much Severus liked the idea by the way he glared down at the diadem still perched across his desk. He stood, leaving Severus alone in his office to figure out what to do with his poison.

* * *

Draco wasn't sure if Harry was avoiding him or trying to talk to him, which should have been obvious except it was anything but. He'd walked out of his rooms three or four times the past couple days to find Harry standing outside, loitering as if waiting for him to come out. But as soon as he'd seen Draco, he'd flushed a bright red and turned abruptly away. And it wasn't as if Harry wasn't going to his classes or not sitting by Draco or anything, but there was something quiet about the way he sat, turned away from Draco, tilting his head to the side whenever Draco opened his mouth to speak.

Draco knew he should have been giving Harry space. He knew he'd crossed a line. He knew he shouldn't have touched Harry the way he had, but as the days passed and the full moon drew nearer, he really just wanted Harry  _back._ In a primal, possessive, needy sort of way that scared the living shite out of him.

He couldn't get Lupin's words out of his head. The way he'd said them, as if there was no way to escape mating with Harry, the way he’d seemed to pity Draco as if he understood his dilemma but didn’t sympathize. And Draco couldn't help but think that maybe he'd already screwed it up, except that he didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, and he already had enough to think about with the full moon, and he really just wanted Harry to talk to him.

"Draco," Blaise called. Defense against the Dark Arts had just ended, Lupin casting him a half-concerned, half-expectant, half-pitying look as he walked out the door. Harry had hightailed it out of the room after spending the entire class glaring at Lupin and determinately not looking at Draco.

"What?" Draco answered, closer to a snap than he meant. Blaise just raised an eyebrow at him.

"I've been trying to talk to Potter for days, but he's been avoiding me."

"Well, you're not the only one," Draco answered.

"Draco, I-."

"I mean, I guess I'm glad he's not buried in the room of requirement or something."

"That's not- wait, what?" Blaise blinked, and Draco suddenly remembered that Blaise didn't know anything about Horcruxes. That it was a secret he was supposed to be keeping, not blurting out while complaining about his boyfriend.

"It's nothing. Never mind."

"Right," Blaise frowned, staring at Draco with something close to concern. Draco shifted, uncomfortable under his gaze before turning his face away. His movement seemed to snap Blaise out of his thoughts, and he blinked. "Right, well, I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"Draco," and Harry was suddenly  _there,_ standing beside Draco, across from Blaise, as if he'd been there the whole time, as if Draco hadn't been in the middle of a conversation, as if they hadn't been Not Talking in class minutes before.

Draco stared at Harry while Harry glared at Blaise and Blaise gaped at Harry, and Draco wondered belatedly why it felt so right with Harry standing next to him.

"Harry," Draco answered.

"Potter," Blaise's eyebrows furrowed as he stared, his eyes flicking to Draco and then back again, but for the life of him Draco couldn't make himself look away from Harry, even when he turned dark green eyes on him and  _glared._

"Zabini," Harry said, not bothering to look away from Draco. "You mind if I talk to Draco," and the way he said it send a shiver down Draco's spine. He said it like Blaise didn't really have a choice, like Draco was  _his._ Which should have bothered him, which  _would_  have bothered him before but somehow didn't.

"Yes," Blaise answered, and Draco blinked over at him at shock. He sounded annoyed, his eyes flashing back at Harry. "I mind."

"Horrible to be you, then," Harry said, and Draco didn't miss the way his next step forward put him slightly in front of Draco. He figured if he didn't want there to be a fight, he should probably step between them.

"Blaise," Draco stepped forward, his hand automatically falling between Harry's shoulder blades. Harry tensed under his hand, but he didn't move away, his face half-turning to look at Draco. "Give us a minute."

"Draco," Blaise answered, and his face softened as he looked back at Draco. "I'm not- I  _do_  have something to say. Granger and Weasley are planning on-."

"Harry Potter!" Harry jumped, Draco's hand sliding off his back as he turned to face Luna Lovegood. She stopped right in front of them, her eyes flashing with the closest thing to anger Draco had ever seen in her.

"Lovegood?" Harry blinked at her; the confusion obvious in his eyes.

"Did you know Ginny Weasley is still crying because of you?" Lovegood asked, and it was suddenly Draco's turn to blink and wonder what the Hell he'd missed. He had to ignore the possessive fury that wound through him at the thought of Weasley anywhere near Harry, at the satisfaction that Harry had made her cry because of it. He bit his lip as Harry stared at Lovegood; this werewolf mating this was becoming not good.

"…So?" Harry answered, his eyebrows furrowing in something close to confusion.

"So, what did you say to her?" Lovegood snapped.

"The truth," Harry said, which really, with Harry was enough.

"You can't just go around-," Lovegood started.

"She should have known to leave me alone," Harry interrupted, and there was something strangely defensive in the way he spoke. In the way he flicked his eyes toward Draco and then away again. And Draco was used to Harry's front of anger when he didn't really feel any, but he wasn't used to Harry actually defending himself. He'd only actually seen it around… around Lupin.

Around Lupin when Harry had been genuinely upset.

"That doesn't mean you can-," Lovegood scowled.

"Leave it alone," Draco interrupted, silently making a note to himself that he and Harry would talk about Ginny later. Add it to the list of things they needed to talk about.

"But-."

"Lovegood," Draco answered, and she frowned at him but stopped.

"Draco," Blaise said. "You really need to hear about what Nott told-."

"You're Blaise Zabini, right?" Lovegood interrupted, her silvery eyes locked on Blaise's face. He blinked at her, his mouth stuck open in surprise.

"I- yeah…" Blaise answered, and when Lovegood opened her mouth again, Draco wasn't exactly surprised as Harry sighed and turned to leave. His green eyes locked on Draco for a fraction of a second before he was walking down the corridor. And Draco was following him before he really knew what he was doing.

"Hey!" Blaise called, still standing by Lovegood with a frustrated expression. "Wait!"

"We'll talk later," Draco answered, still following behind Harry, who apparently wasn't about to wait for him.

"What was that about?" Draco asked, drawing even with Harry.

"What?" Harry answered.

"Don't what me," Draco snapped. "You know what I'm talking about. That whole scene with Blaise," and he knew he didn't imagine the way Harry tensed as he continued walking.

"Severus said…" Harry trailed off, his cheeks flushing red as he looked off to the side. He looked horribly uncomfortable, and Draco realized with a shock that Harry was  _trying_. That Harry had been trying all week. All the aborted attempts had been Harry trying to reach out to him, and Draco had been too bull headed to notice. As frustrating as that idea was, he suddenly wanted to laugh, though he had an idea that Harry might actually slap him if he did.

"Harry," Draco said, watching as green eyes flicked up to meet his. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not made of glass,” Harry snapped back.

"I know," Draco frowned at him. Harry was a lot of things, hard and cold and fucking difficult to get to know, but Draco had never thought Harry was fragile. Though Draco could tell by the way Harry stared that he, at least, hadn’t thought Draco knew.

"I… I didn't want you to go through the full moon by yourself," Harry answered, and Draco reached down and closed his hand around Harry's, feeling gratified when he didn't pull away. He supposed it was Harry's way of saying there was nothing to forgive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments! You're all wonder-bread! That is, unless you're gluten free....


	13. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's transformation has some unexpected complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Minor violence
> 
> This is one of my favorite chapters. Enjoy!

"What was Luna talking about?" Draco asked. He could just see Harry's back as they made their way through the woods to Draco's spot for the transformation. "With Weasley?" He saw Harry sigh, saw the way his shoulders slumped like he really didn't want to talk, but he must have realized that Draco needed the distraction, because he didn't ignore the question.

"It was nothing," Harry answered. "She tried to talk to me when I wasn't in the mood."

"What does that mean?" Draco found himself asking, even though he was pretty sure he already knew. He'd seen Harry lash out before, had been on the receiving end of his insults. He knew if Harry had been especially upset when Weasley had approached him, it couldn't have been pretty.

"I told her she was disgusting," Harry said, and the blasé way he said it took Draco by surprise.

"Why?" He didn't realize he'd stopped walking until Harry turned to face him, and Draco expected to see  _something_  there. Regret, guilt, anger, something, but there was nothing besides a blank kind of confused defiance that Draco didn't know what to do with.

"It was the truth," Harry answered.

"Harry, you hardly ever tell you truth," Draco answered, staring at him, but Harry's eyes shifted away. He turned away, shoving a branch out of his way and giving Draco no choice but to follow.

"What did she say to you?" he asked, stepping behind Harry and refusing to let the subject go, even as he saw the muscles in Harry's shoulders tense further.

"Nothing."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I am not," Harry snapped, locking dark green eyes on Draco in a glare.

"Sure."

"I'm  _not,_ " Harry answered; and he sounded so indignant that Draco had to turn his head away to hide his smile. "Are you laughing at me?" Harry asked suddenly, all the seriousness drained from his voice. When Draco looked, he was almost smiling. One side of his mouth quirked the tiniest amount.

"I'm laughing with you," Draco said, and Harry rolled his eyes. Then he sighed, stepped away again to face the way they'd been going.

"She didn't really say anything."

"Then why-."

"It was the way she acted like… like I was…"

"Made of glass?" Draco guessed, Harry's earlier words coming back to him. And it suddenly made sense why his apology had bothered Harry so much. Harry just stared at him; dark green eyes unreadable.

"We should keep moving," he said finally, and Draco knew better than to push any more at the minute.

"Alright."

It didn't take too much longer to reach the clearing, the sun setting over the treetops. And Draco could feel his blood shifting in his veins as the moon rose in the sky. He could tell Harry was getting antsy too by the way he got so still, it barely looked as if he was breathing.

They sat across from each other, Draco's arm stretched out to settle on top of Harry's as they waited, neither of them speaking. He marveled at how, even though he knew what to expect, it wasn't any easier than the first time. There was much less blind terror, but with that came a lot more dread.

Eventually, he felt a shudder pass through his whole body, and he yanked his hand away from Harry, standing as the nervous energy coursed through him. And Harry was turning away in the next minute, his own body warping and shrinking, hands and feet turning into paws, hair growing over his body, ears and face lengthening until he was in his Animagus bobcat form. Draco took a breath and started stripping out of his clothes, waiting for the transformation to take hold.

* * *

"You're asking for my help?" Lucius asked, and Severus had to resist the temptation to roll his eyes.

"I believe that's what I said," he answered.

"With acquiring ingredients for a poison?" Lucius said, narrowing his eyes. His hair was braided down his back as he sat across the desk from Severus in the headmaster's office. He knew Lucius was suspicious, maybe even still angry about their previous argument. Well, Severus himself was also sore, but that didn't mean he didn't need Lucius' help.

"If you don't want to help-."

"I didn't say that," Lucius interrupted, his hand so tight on his walking stick, it was almost white. "I just want to know what's really going on."

"It's something-."

"No," Lucius interrupted again, and he must have been really mad, because Severus could  _see_ the anger in his grey eyes. "No, don't lie or make excuses, Severus. Tell me what's going on."

Severus sighed. He supposed he could ask Lupin for help; he'd thought about it. But he wasn't sure Lupin could get all the ingredients, beside the fact that he didn't really  _want_ to ask Lupin for help  _again._ And Lucius was looking at him with those grey eyes, and he truly hated hating the man. It seemed as if he had been doing it for most of his life, and it wasn't as if it had succeeded so far.

"Dumbledore left Harry a task," he said finally. "Something he needs help with."

* * *

Harry wasn't exactly sure when Draco fell asleep, nor when he woke up. It wasn't a terrible night. Werewolf Draco was pretty calm, pretty much staying curled up in the clearing, only looking up a couple of times as the moon went behind and in front of clouds. But it was still long. Harry had had plenty of sleepless nights, but he'd had few that were as stressful as when he was watching Draco as a Werewolf.

Eventually, he heard the low grumbling that meant Draco had fallen asleep, and as the moon fell and the sun started to rise, Draco's bones started to crack as he transformed back. And by the time the sun was all the way risen, he was blinking his eyes open to the sound of Harry's purring.

"Ugh," Draco groaned; Harry was perched in his hair, digging his claws between blonde strands to keep himself seated as Draco shifted. He felt Draco freeze under him, and knew he should probably move, that Draco probably didn't appreciate him on his head, but he was  _so_ comfortable. And one thing he’d learned from being a bobcat was that his comfort was of optimal importance in any given situation.

“Harry," Draco muttered, shifting his legs together in an attempt to cover himself. Harry didn't bother to look, didn't want to look. He just kept himself still on Draco's head, purring loudly into what he was sure was Draco's ear. "Harry…. seriously, can you get off my head?" He heaved a sigh, pulling his claws out of Draco's hair before jumping off. He felt Draco wince under him before he was stretching out his beck, ignoring as Draco reached for him clothes.

Harry shifted back to his human form as Draco got dressed, watching as he ran a hand through his hair. And Harry had to stop himself from smiling at the disgusted look on Draco’s face when he came away with a leaf.

"Are you laughing at me?" Draco asked suddenly, and when Harry looked over at him, he was smiling, teasing. He felt the blush on his cheeks, and a smile on his lips in response.

"Of course."

* * *

Abraxas was a cruel father. Abraxas didn't hit him or really ever lay a hand on him or anything of the sort, but it was the things he said that were cruel. He believed in pureblood supremacy with a passion that made other purebloods follow him. He believed that purebloods deserved to rule the world with a hunger in his eyes that he used for very little else.

Abraxas taught him while he was young that there was no greater sin than to abandon tradition. While he was in school, Abraxas continued to teach him pureblood tradition. Abraxas would keep him up late into the night during the summer telling stories about the Malfoy ancestors, about the things he would need to know when he was head of the family, about how he would need to marry a real pureblood woman.

“Never forget how a Malfoy is to behave, Lucius,” Abraxas would say, and he would nod without really understanding.

When Abraxas found out he'd fallen in love with a half-blood man, the gauntlet had been thrown. He'd tried to fight his father. He'd even visited Severus; he'd told Narcissa he didn't love her. Abraxas didn't care; he'd never cared. Tradition was what mattered. And after Severus had turned him away, he'd supposed Abraxas had been right. Pureblood traditions were better than feelings.

Even after he married Narcissa, even after Abraxas had died, even after he'd had Draco, even after Severus had started speaking to him again, he hadn't been able to step away from the lessons his father had taught him. Traditions were the things that were steady. The things that didn't change. The things to be relied on.

If there was one sin he didn't know how to commit, it was to forget tradition. To forget pureblood supremacy.

* * *

"What was that?" Weasley stopped abruptly, waving his wand haphazardly. His Lumos lit up the area all around them, casting shadows in the surrounding forest in a creepy way. Blaise shivered as a cold wind blew all around them, making the tree shake, and in the safety of his own mind, he could admit that he was scared.

But he’d wanted to know what Nott was talking about. He’d wanted to know what big secret Nott was sure they would want to know.  _And it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to warn Draco and Potter,_  he thought bitterly. He’d tried. Nott had talked and as much as he’d wanted to know, he’d drawn his line. He hadn’t wanted to  _completely_  betray his friendship with Draco. But then they’d both blown him off, and if they really hadn’t wanted anyone to know what they were doing out in the Forbidden Forest, they would have listened when he’d talked.

It had been 2 days since anyone had seen either Draco or Potter. Apparently, they'd snuck off in the middle night, and if Nott's information was correct, they'd gone into the Forbidden Forest—where Blaise, Weasley, and Granger were now.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Granger answered, though she didn't exactly sound  _sure_.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Weasley muttered. "The Forbidden Forest is dangerous."

"We can't go back without seeing what Nott was so insistent we look at," Granger said, and she sounded a lot more confident that Weasley looked or Blaise felt. "Besides, we must almost be there."

"We've been in the forest forever," Blaise grumbled, already annoyed with the Gryffindor. Honestly, how was anyone supposed to be expected to stay in such close contact with her. "We're probably not even going in the right direction anymore."

"We can't go back," Granger said, turning to look at Blaise with an exasperated look. "Malfoy and Harry have already been missing 2 days. Aren't you curious where they are?"

"Nott is probably screwing with us," Blaise said. "He's like that."

"Hey," Weasley, stopped again, and Granger sighed. "Did you hear that?"

"Ron-."

"No, listen," and this time Blaise did hear what Weasley was talking about. He listened to the woods around them, and where there had been plenty of sounds and rustling and insects moving around them before, now there was nothing.

"We should go," he said, feeling the fear thrill through his veins. And he was really starting to regret coming.

He jumped when the howl pierced through the air around them. The sharp unmistakable sound of a Werewolf howl, and as the breaking of branches and the rushing of bushes sounded, he suddenly knew without a doubt what Nott had wanted them to find. What Draco and Potter had been too preoccupied with to listen to him about. What he suddenly, horribly wished he didn't know about Draco Malfoy.

* * *

It took Harry too long to realize what had happened. It was the second night of the full moon, and he'd been too relaxed, too caught off guard. One second, Werewolf Draco was laying across the forest floor, tolerating Harry sprawled on top of his back, loud purring echoing around the clearing, and the next second, he was looking up, sniffing the air.

It took Harry too long to dig his claws into Draco's hair, to shift his stance and try and divert his attention. And Draco was moving before he knew it, leaving Harry sprawled out on the ground before he fully realized what had happened.

He yowled after him, pacing out of the clearing after Draco's disappearing back legs. But this time the trick didn't work; whatever had captured Draco's attention had captured it enough that he no longer cared much about what Harry did. And he had no choice but to chase after Draco into the bushes.

As they ran, even Harry began to hear what had drawn Draco's attention. The shuffling of feet and whisper of breath, and he could smell that pure hormonal scent that his Animagus form always attributed to humans. He cursed whoever was foolish enough to be out in the Forbidden Forest on a full moon, pushing himself forward, shoving his hindlegs into the ground, and screeching as he struggled to catch up with Draco.

When he was less than a foot away, he stretched his front foot out and barely caught his claws against Draco's back leg. Werewolf Draco stopped abruptly, grinding his back legs into the ground as he came to a halt and lunging around to snap large fangs where Harry's head had been a second before.

Harry scrambled to the side, trying to get his legs under him and away from Draco. As he hid under the nearby bush, feeling how the hair was standing up along his back, Draco sat on his back paws and howled. And Harry hoped that whoever had been stupid enough to come out here was smart enough to get out at the sound.

And then Werewolf Draco was lunging toward the bush Harry hid in, his claws scrambling along the leaves and barely missing Harry's nose. Harry crept out of the bush, staying back on his haunches as Draco tore the leaves apart. When he was free, he turned and ran, and he could hear Draco shoving through the bush and scrambling after him.

Harry lunged, his claws digging into a nearby tree trunk as he climbed up and then over on the branch. And then he jumped over to the next tree, continuing on through the forest. He could still hear Draco growling under him, following him under the branches as he went.

And then there was a crashing sound in the bushes to the right, and Draco went deadly still, and when the wind blew, the scent of hormones blasted into his nose again, leaving Harry frozen and stunned. When Granger, Weasley and Zabini stumbled almost straight into Werewolf Draco, Harry felt cold dread travel down his body. It wasn't that he cared about any of them, but he couldn't let Draco kill them. He'd seen the dread in Draco's eyes; he couldn't see the pain that came with it if he failed.

He launched himself out of the tree, digging his claws through Draco's hair and into his skin. Draco howled, reaching around with long claws. Harry twisted, but Draco just barely managed to catch Harry along his back and down his leg. Harry yowled, losing his grip as Draco managed to fling him off. And he watched as Werewolf Draco didn't bother to cast him a second look, stalking toward Granger, Weasley, and Zabini, who were staring at them with wide terrified eyes.

 _Useless_ , Harry thought. And he closed his eyes and felt the transformation ripple through him.

He heard a gasp, but he didn't have time. He was already on his feet, reaching for his wand as Werewolf Draco turned toward him suddenly, clashing his fangs together and snarling. Harry felt pain ripple through him as the scratch rubbed against his clothes, and he knew he was bleeding, could feel the hot liquid running down his leg, but he didn't have  _time_.

Draco lunged, and Harry was  _just_  too slow, the spell on the tip of his tongue as Draco's claws dug into his shoulder. And his fangs were an inch away from his throat as they collided with the ground, Draco holding him down and snarling. And Harry had tightened his fingers around his wand; he could use it. He  _should_ use it.

But anything less than a fatal spell right then, and it wouldn’t matter anyway, and he- he just couldn’t  _kill_ Draco. He couldn’t. Even if it meant he was going to die. He was going to die for three people he hated. He was going to…

And he suddenly realized how very much he didn't want to die anymore.

And he could already feel the laughter bubbling up, coming in tandem with a cry of something too close to pain. What perfect timing he had.

"Stupefy," he heard suddenly, and Draco flinched above him, drawing away abruptly. And Harry could breathe as Draco scrambled off him, obviously dizzy and stunned. Werewolves had a natural resistance to magic, nowhere near Giants, but still there; it would take at least another Stupefy to knock Draco out.

"Stupefy," Harry groan, throwing his wand hand out as he cast and feeling the sickening twist of pain shoot through him. Draco stumbled but just turned back toward Harry with a snarl.

"Stupefy," and Draco was falling, tumbling to the ground with a low whine in the back of his throat. Zabini held his wand out, his hand trembling as his eyes stayed glued on Draco's unconscious form.

And Harry's last thought before he lost consciousness was that he hated the way Zabini looked at Draco. Then his head was falling back against the dirt, the pain and fear and relief too much to keep holding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments!


	14. To be Healed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: minor smut

Draco hung his head, sitting in the chair Severus had put beside the bed. Severus had barely said anything to him, merely looking over Harry's wounds, forcing a potion down his throat, and telling Draco that he would be fine before looking over Draco himself—as if he mattered after what he'd done.

He could remember bits and pieces of what had happened. Mostly it was all a big blur, as it usually was when he transformed. But he did remember Harry's Animagus form yowling in pain, Harry's shouted spell, Blaise and Granger's Stupefy.

He'd woken up alone and in an unfamiliar part of the forest and known immediately that something was wrong. By the time, he'd made his way up to Hogwarts, Severus had had Harry's wounds mostly in hand and had sent Weasley, Granger, and Blaise away after properly scolding them.

Draco hadn't left Harry's bed since, and Severus hadn't said anything about it. He'd been placed in his own private room, a lot like Draco's; something about how Harry hated the infirmary, and it would be better if he wasn't around other people. Rationally, Draco knew he hadn't been in control of himself; he knew Harry had been trying to help him. He knew he hadn't infected Harry, that there had been only scratches and no bites, and the worse he would have was scars. But that didn't lessen the guilt or the anger.

"Draco?" Harry's voice sounded in the small room.

"You're awake," Draco answered, looking up. Harry blinked at him, green eyes staring in that way he had when Draco was being particularly annoying. "Are you in a lot of pain?" he asked, leaning forward. He had to clench his fists against the impulse to reach forward and pat Harry down, to make sure Severus hadn't missed a spot, to make sure Draco really hadn't done permanent damage to him.

"I'm fine," Harry said, still staring, and Draco had to look away before he did something horribly stupid. Like beg Harry's forgiveness. He was sure that would go over well.

"I should get Severus."

"Do you remember what happened?" Harry asked, and Draco could tell he didn't move, but he didn't need to, the grate of his voice and the force of his stare was enough.

"I could have killed you," and he was suddenly standing, his back to Harry and his hands at his sides and he still somehow heard Harry shifting to sit behind him above the pounding of heart.

"I know that," Harry said, and he sounded entirely too calm.

"Then why didn't you run!" he turned, staring at Harry with what he was sure was a psychotic expression. "Why didn't you leave when you knew I was out of control? You could have-."

"I didn't want to leave you," Harry interrupted, and though his voice was soft, and his face blushed bright red when he said it, his eyes never left Draco's.

"Why?"

"I…" and Harry's eyes finally flicked away, locking anywhere but on Draco. "Why does that matter?"

"Bloody Hell, Harry, because-," he stopped abruptly as the door opened to his right, and Severus stepped through, dark eyes focused on Draco with an expression he couldn't read.

"Our Apologies for interrupting," Lucius said, stepping into the room behind Severus and speaking with a not at all apologetic voice. "But I need to speak with Potter, and I'm sure Severus was wanting to check on him."

"I'm fine," Harry repeated, turning his head away. He didn't bother laying back down as Severus came around the bed to look him over but neither did he bother to argue as Severus cast a few spells on his person and ordered him to drink a couple potions.

"You were lucky," Severus said finally, taking a step back and sinking into the chair Draco had recently abandoned. "Most of your wounds were superficial, and the few scratches that weren't were placed just so to avoid any real injury," he cast a strange look Draco's way, half-inquisitive, half-suspicious. "I'd almost say Draco wasn't actually trying to hurt you."

And Draco couldn't stop himself from biting his lip. Severus knew. Severus knew that Harry was his... Merlin, what Severus must think of him and-

"That makes sense," Harry answered, paying no attention to Draco's distress or Severus' hard stare. "Werewolves aren't usually violent toward animals in general. He would have just wanted me out of the way."

"True enough," Severus said, turning away from Draco as if he truly accepted Harry's answer, but Draco knew he didn't. He knew. His eyes flicked up and met his father's, who frowned at him. It was clear Lucius didn't have anymore idea what Severus was thinking than Harry did, and Draco was a least glad of that.

"Severus told me about your mission, Potter," Lucius said, and Harry blinked before turning to stare at Lucius as if he'd suddenly grown a third eye.

"Severus knows?" Draco asked, because well, as good as that was, he hadn't known Severus knew, and it wasn't like Harry to go around tell people things about Horcruxes and Dumbledore's plans and that he'd wanted to get himself killed and stuff. Harry tended to bottle that shite up until Draco demanded to know what he was doing and accused him of cheating when he refused to answer. But then, maybe he'd only done that to Draco.

"He was with me when I found the diadem," Harry said, and he was staring at Draco with those green eyes again, his expression dark and charged and Draco  _should_ know what it meant, but all he could be was surprised. Surprised and hurt.

"You found the diadem?"

"And we think a way to destroy Horcruxes," Harry said.

They had been together almost exclusively the last three days, sleeping and talking and when Draco wasn't staring at Harry, he'd caught Harry staring at him, but not once had Harry bothered to tell him any of that.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Didn't occur to me," Harry answered, and it was so blatantly a lie that Draco didn't know what to say, so he just nodded and turned away.

"Right," his father said, lips pressed together in his most disapproving look. "Well, I've been asking around, and I think we'll have all the ingredients in time to start brewing by next week."

"Which is faster than I'd anticipated," Severus said, his hands folded carefully across his lap as he spoke, and Draco could tell by the look on his face that  _something_ was coming.

"What?" Harry asked, his eyes flicking from Severus back to Lucius. "What happened?"

"Nothing  _happened_ ," Lucius answered, his lips pursed. "It's only… the Horcruxes you were talking about, I may know where another one is."

"Where?" Harry asked, and the emotion was gone from his face so fast, Draco was half convinced he'd imagined it in the first place. Except he knew. He knew now what Harry did to avoid his emotions.

"Bellatrix Lestrange's vault," his father said. "She's always been loyal to Voldemort, so proud of how much he trusts her. She used to go on about how she was his favorite, about how he would trust her with his soul. I used to think she was being metaphorical, but now I'm not sure."

"I remember that," Draco said. "It was right after he broke them out of Azkaban. But she was mumbling all sorts of nonsense."

"Was it nonsense or did we just not understand?" Lucius asked, one eyebrow raised. "And do you also remember how many trips she made to her vault when she first returned? How defensive she got when anyone asked where she'd been?"

"She  _would_ never betray him," Severus said.

"On purpose," Harry answered, and he exchanged a look with Severus that Draco didn't understand. "It makes sense."

"It's too dangerous," Severus said. "Lucius and I can look into the matter."

"Lucius is in just as much danger outside the castle as I am, and if you go breaking into Gringotts, the Ministry will have your head," Harry snapped, tilting his head and staring with dark green eyes, and Drack suddenly realized with a horrifying start what they were talking about.

"Harry, don't be an idiot," he said, and Harry turned to glare at him as if Draco  _wasn't_ right about this. "You can't go running off to Gringotts. Voldemort-."

"I can do whatever I like," Harry answered.

"Now isn't the time to debate this," Lucius interrupted before Draco had the chance to retort. "You should rest," he told Harry. "And I'm sure we have work to do," he glanced at Severus, who gave one stiff nod before standing.

"I'll be back to check on you later," Severus said, and then they were gone.

* * *

"A werewolf?" Theodore Nott asked, his eyebrows raised. And Blaise thought that he could have done a much better job at pretending that he didn't know. He  _had_ been the one to tell them to go into the woods in the first place. "Really?"

"You almost got us killed!" Granger said, her voice sharp as she looked at Blaise, and he suddenly knew that she saw through Nott just as he did. He supposed she at least wasn't an idiot.

"I assure you that I had no way of knowing what would happen," Nott answered, wide eyed and innocent. "And really, wouldn't it be better if everyone knew, so they could avoid this happening again?"

"What?" Blaise asked, and he had to consciously control his voice before he said something he regretted. "That would just cause chaos. Beside, it's obvious Headmaster Snape knows, which is what really matters, isn't it?"

And it wasn’t that it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t that he didn’t care that Draco Malfoy was a _Werewolf._ It was just… He cared about Draco. He cared, and how could he condone being the cause of Draco’s life being imploded. No matter how conflicted he had been about Draco and Potter being together, he knew when he needed to take a step back. Because at least with Potter, Draco wasn’t alone. And as a Werewolf, if Draco was with Blaise, he would always be alone.

"Does it?" Weasley snapped. "It's got to be illegal, having a werewolf in the school! And another student running around in the woods with him, unsupervised. It's wrong."

"Ron," Granger said. "We can't just go running off yelling about Malfoy. We don't know what that will do-."

"Why should we keep his secret?" Weasley asked.

"Exactly," Nott answered, one eyebrow raised, and Blaise knew with a sinking feeling that this was what he'd been planning all along. He exchanged a look with Granger as Weasley began ranting about werewolves and the law and 'the right thing to do.' The problem was that he had no idea how to stop it.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Draco asked, and Harry sighed. He was still in bed, his back propped up against the headboard so he was sitting up.

"You've already asked me that," he answered, leaning his head back and turning away. Draco was seated back in his chair, far enough away that Harry could ignore him if he wanted to. And suddenly that was terribly too far for him. Draco stood abruptly, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning over to get as close to Harry as he could without getting in his face. Harry turned toward him, his face flushed as he looked at Draco with dark green eyes locked on his face.

"Don't do that," Draco said. "Don't lie and avoid."

"You didn't need to know."

"How could I not have-?" Draco started, his voice high, as he felt the sharp stab of hurt when Harry lied to his face  _again._

"No, Draco," Harry snapped, and it was suddenly Harry grabbing him, his hand tight around Draco's wrist and his eyes dark and intense, and Draco was limp, unable to do anything but stare and listen. "You didn't need to know when you were scared and stressed and in the middle of your transformation."

"You…" Draco blinked. "You were protecting me…?" Harry blushed, flicking his eyes away with a scoff.

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry said, his cheeks now bright red, and it was ridiculous, because Harry  _didn't_ protect people. Even Severus and Lucius, who he obviously cared about in spite of making it very clear how little he cared about people, he didn't protect. So, yes, it was ridiculous.

Except... he had  _already_ protected Draco. The first night he turned, he'd been there to protect him from himself. He'd been there for the past three days. He'd been there when Draco needed to whine about his father or lash out. He'd been there to stop Draco from killing Weasley, Granger and Blaise, not because he cared about them, but because he cared about Draco.

And for the first time, Draco looked at him and thought that this was what it was like to be in love with someone. And it was a terrifying thought. Horrifying.

But he understood exactly why Lupin had been so unconcerned by Draco's insistent reminders that he and Harry weren't mated yet. Because it _didn't_ matter. He didn't care. He was in love with Harry, and as terrifying as that was, he couldn't imagine himself running away from this.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Harry asked, looking at him out of the corner of his eye as if Draco had lost his mind.

"Can I kiss you?" Draco asked, because he knew saying what he really wanted to say would only make Harry run the opposite way, and really, he did want to kiss Harry again.

Harry's lips parted, and he swallowed, his Adams-apple bobbing along his throat as his eyes flicked down toward Draco's lips, and Draco knew Harry wasn't physically opposed to touching him, but that didn't mean he was ready for it.

He wasn't stupid; he remembered Voldemort touching Harry, the way Harry had been so limp in his arms. He could have been dead except for the pain and fear and acceptance in his eyes. He remembered Voldemort's whispered taunt about Harry sitting and staring  _again._ Like it had happened before. He remembered Harry answering something about his aunt drawing more blood than Voldemort could.

Draco wasn't stupid, but he also knew that there were some things he couldn't force Harry to talk about. But that also didn't mean they didn't affect him. That much was obvious by the way he avoided human contact as if it burned. By the way he'd reacted the first time Draco had tried to kiss him. By the way he still hesitated as he stared at Draco's lips.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Draco said, his voice almost a whisper in the still air of the room and  _still_ Harry started at the sound of it, like he'd been caught doing something wrong.

"I don't…" he flushed even darker before forcing himself to look up at Draco, his pupils blown wide with fear and lust, and Draco didn't think he'd ever seen Harry this open before. "I want you."

"Harry," Draco twisted his wrist around, and Harry seemed to realize he was still holding it. His fingers sprang apart and he went to move away, but Draco grabbed his hand, holding it between both his hands. "Has anyone ever touched you and not tried to hurt you?"

"I mean, there's Severus..."

"No, I mean sexually."

"I…" and Harry was turning away again, flushing with something too close to shame for Draco's taste, but he didn't pull his hand away.

"Harry," Draco said. "Would you let me show you that it can feel good?" He saw Harry’s eyes widen, though his head didn't turn, and Harry's breath sped up, his fingers locking around Draco's like a vice. "Let me show you that it doesn't have to hurt. You can tell me to stop any time.”

He leaned forward, his breath ghosting across Harry's face. And then Harry turned abruptly toward him, and he didn't know who kissed who, but they were suddenly kissing, and it wasn't the chaste innocent kisses they'd shared before. Harry almost immediately opened his mouth for Draco, his hand fisting around Draco’s while his other hand hovered nervously in the air around his shoulder for a heartbeat before it latched on.

Draco's first instinct was to lean forward, to push Harry back against the headboard, to press his body against Harry's, but he'd done that last time and it hadn’t exactly worked out. Besides, this wasn't about him. Instead, he leaned back, taking Harry with him until they were sprawled on the bed with Harry half laying on top of Draco. He broke the kiss, his green eyes staring down at Draco with shock and uncertainty, and Draco knew Harry had absolutely no idea where to go from there.

He pulled his hand away from Harry's, leading him to set his own hand next to Draco's head, so he could prop his weight up. And Draco stared at his face, the tip of his finger against Harry's cheekbone, the bags under his eyes, down his nose, the hollow of his cheek, down his chin, and finally back up to his lips. And Harry opened his mouth, his breath hot against Draco's fingers as he panted, face flushed and eyes full of desire.

And Draco reveled in the fact that  _he_ could do this to Harry. Only him.

He let his hand slide around to the back of Harry's neck and pulled him into another kiss. Harry kissed him back easily, opening his mouth as Draco slid his hand up and into his hair and- He tensed suddenly, his lips freezing against Draco's. He pulled his hand away from Harry's hair immediately, sliding it back down until he griped Harry by the shoulders, kissing gently until Harry was relaxing and opening back up to him.

Draco filed hand in the hair as a trigger as he put both his hands on Harry's chest, gliding them down until one rested on his stomach and the other was laying on edge of his robe. Harry pulled away from the kiss, gasping and wide-eyed. His eyes flicked down to Draco's hands and then back up, and then he was kissing Draco again like he was going to die if he didn't, and Draco was reaching under his robes wrapping his hand around Harry‘s cock and loving the gasped groan Harry moaned against his mouth.

He didn't really try to keep kissing after Draco started touching him. He just panted into Draco's mouth, his fingernails digging into Draco's shoulder so hard it hurt deliciously. And Draco was watching the pleasure move across his face with a sense of adoration he was entirely sure had almost nothing to do with the sex.

It wasn't that Draco wasn't turned on. It wasn't that Harry wasn't hot, or that Draco didn't want to shag him or be shagged by him. It was just that this was about Harry.

Harry came with a startled moan, his teeth clamping down on Draco's bottom lip in a way that absolutely thrilled him. He went completely stiff against Draco before going limp, collapsing boneless against him. Draco turned his hips away, careful to keep his own erection safely away from Harry's relaxed form.

"I…" Harry started, his face already tucking itself against Draco's neck.

"Just go to sleep, Harry," he answered and wasn't too surprised when Harry did just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your wonderful comments! We're about 10 chapters from the end, so if there's anything that anyone absolutely wants to see, let me know now, and I'll do my best to include it!


	15. What Who Deserves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's secret is revealed.

When he woke up, Draco had the feeling Harry had been awake for a long time before him. He was surprised he was still there, tucked against Draco's side with his head tilted up just enough to stare at him. He blinked slowly, half afraid to move and have Harry jump out of the bed and away from him.

"I'm disgusting," Harry muttered finally, and he green eyes wide as he still stared up at Draco.

"I'm sorry," Draco shifted, one arm laid under Harry, wrapped around his shoulder and completely unwilling to move. "I should have cast a cleaning spell last night after we-."

"No," Harry interrupted, and Draco blinked in surprise. "I mean, it's alright," he blushed, flicking his eyes away. "I'll just go shower," but he didn't move, and the warning bells were already going off in Draco's head; the words Harry had said banging around.

Harry's real meaning blatantly clear now that he was awake enough to think about it.

"Harry-," he started, but Harry must have understood the tone of his voice, because he was suddenly pulling away from Draco, rolling off the bed, stepping away, his robes wrinkled as they hung off him.

"It's nothing."

"Harry, you're not disgusting," Draco called after him, and Harry stopped, his hand wrapped around the bathroom door handle. He turned his head, just enough to look at Draco out of the corner of his eye before he was gone without another word.

Draco had no idea if his words had an effect or not, but he figured it was a start in the right direction.

He stood carefully, folding his ruined robes carefully around him as he stood. He knew he looked disheveled, and he too needed a shower. He was reluctant to leave Harry, but he also had the feeling that right now he needed his space. Besides, Draco could hardly jump in the shower with him. Even if he did, he wouldn't have anything to put on after.

With a sigh, Draco moved toward the door, heading toward his own room and hoping he didn't run into anyone. Of course, since his life was about as hard as it got, he ran almost straight into a couple of Slytherin first years. They stopped in their tracks, turning to stare at him with wide terrified looking eyes as they took in his disheveled appearance.

"What are you looking at?" he scowled at them, putting the snap into his voice and hoping they would scurry out of his way before he really had to talk to them.

"Nothing," the girl squeaked before grabbing her companion's hand and scrambling away.

He frowned after them, wondering at their behavior. But just shook himself and continued toward his room. Hopefully, they wouldn't spread stories about the way he looked around the castle.

When he turned the corner before his room, he stopped suddenly, watching as Pansy Parkinson stalked toward him, looking pissed and murderous.

"Is it true?" she asked, stopping a good five feet from him. Much further than she usually chose to stand from anyone.

"What are you talking about?" Draco answered.

"Of course, it's true," Theodore Nott said, trailing behind her with a self-satisfied expression.

"Merlin, I can't believe I ever touched you…" Pansy hissed, a look of revulsion passing across her face.

"Well, the feeling's mutual," Draco answered, trying to step around her. Pansy immediately moved out of his way, skittering a step away as if she was... afraid of him? But Nott was suddenly there, blocking him, smirk widening as he faced Draco.

"Did you have a good full moon, Malfoy?" he asked, and Draco stiffened. "Kiss any good bobcats?"

"What are you…?" he trailed off, the pieces suddenly clicking, and he should have figured it out so much sooner, but he had been worried about Harry, distracted.

Of course, Weasley, Granger, and Blaise hadn't just  _been_ in the woods by chance. Someone had tipped them off. Someone that Draco already suspected knew about his secret.

He glanced at Pansy, her behavior suddenly so much more suspicious. The first year Slytherin's behavior suddenly so much more foreboding.

"That's right," Theodore smiled widely. "Everyone knows now."

"We have a right to know," Pansy said loudly, her voice high and reedy. "A Werewolf in our school. It's disgusting, and I _won't_ tolerate it."

"Talk to Severus Snape about doing what he's told if you don't like it," Nott almost whispered, but Draco was already turning away from him, heading back the way he came, hoping against hope that Harry hadn't left his room yet, because… Merlin, because….

* * *

Harry knew he looked scary. Less because he  _knew_ and more because of the way people moved away from him with a startled expression. But when Granger had showed up at his door looking tired and frustrated and talking nonsense about how she was sorry, and she tried to stop them, how she knew it wasn't their business or the rest of the school's what Draco was. And Harry had paused at that. Stared at her, and she'd been talking again before she knew what was good for her. And Harry had been rushing off before he'd known what was good for him.

He found Zabini exactly where he expected to find him; he was coming out of the Slytherin common room, the portrait swinging shut behind him as he saw Harry. His face paled, dark eyes widening as Harry came to a stop about a foot away from him.

"Who do you think you are?" Harry asked, and he knew he didn't imagine the way his voice echoed with anger. The hurt cleansing kind of anger that felt so good and hurt so much. The kind of anger that he hadn't felt in so long and felt all the time. "That just because I listened to you once, you think you can come into our lives and tell the world our secrets?"

"I  _tried_ to stop them," Zabini snapped back. "I _tried_ -."

"Well, you didn't try hard enough, did you?" Harry answered.

"No one could have stopped them!"

"Then, you should have come to me. You should have told me. You should have-."

"I tried to! You wouldn't listen," Zabini answered, stepping forward, breathing straight into Harry's face in a way that made a fierce rush of nausea run through him. "You were so wrapped up in your own problems that you couldn't see anyone else's," Harry wrenched away from him, feeling the sharp burn of shame light through him. "Besides, need I remind you that I saved your life."

"I never asked you to," Harry said, horrified when his voice broke.

"And I didn't do it for you," Zabini hissed.

Harry inhaled sharply, taking another step back as he stared at Zabini. And it seemed _so_ obvious. He'd felt the jealousy when Zabini had been talking to Draco, the way he'd looked at him, the kindness, the concern in his eyes. But Draco had seemed so oblivious, Zabini so intent on helping them, and Harry was hardly the authority when it came to people's feeling.

But the way Zabini said it. As if he had saved Harry's life for  _someone._ It was the same way Harry thought about saving him.

"You're in love with him," Harry said; a statement of fact. "You're in love with Draco."

"I…" Zabini stared at him, his eyes wide, and Harry was sure he blushed, though it was hard to see on his dark skin. "Listen, if this is the part where you warn me away from him, don't bother. I know Draco's with you, and he's… I just…," his eyes flicked left, right, away from Harry and back, then away again. "I know now that I don't have a chance, and I don't plan on getting between you."

"Just-," Harry broke off, feeling lost and empty. And he didn't understand what he was doing standing between someone who was selfless enough to look at Draco and- Why was Harry even- He didn't deserve- "Just don't."

"What?" Zabini stared at him, his brow furrowing as he stepped forward, and Harry jerked away, flinching as he went. "Are you alri-."

"Harry!" Draco's voice sounded down the corridor, and then he was suddenly  _there_ , stopping right behind Harry, his hand landing on the small of his back as he turned a suspicious look on Zabini. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing," Harry answered, and he still couldn't bring himself to pull away from Draco, not with how warm his body felt against Harry's, not with how comforting his hand was against Harry's back. Even as Zabini stared at them, and he  _knew_ he wasn't good enough, but he… still just… couldn't. "It's nothing," Harry said, turning his head away from Draco's concerned gaze even as Draco turned back to Zabini with suspicion still in his silver-grey eyes.

* * *

"How did they find out?" Lucius asked, and he could feel the panic coursing through him, the need to do something without having any idea what. He made himself stand still, his hand tight around his cane as he stood beside Severus' desk.

"It had to be Theodore Nott," Severus said. He had his head in his hands, his elbows leaning against his desk as he sat. And Lucius could sense his frustration.

"Theodore Nott?" Lucius answered, turning to face Severus. "The Slytherin? What does he have to do with anything?"

"He knows about Draco. He tried to threaten me, said he would tell the Ministry. I refused, but I never imagined-."

"That's what Lupin was doing," Lucius said, leaning over Severus' desk. "You asked him to help you make sure the Ministry didn't find out about Draco."

"Lucius, I-," Severus started, just lifting his head to look at Lucius. And he looked terrible, his dark eyes angry and frustrated and it was in that entirely self-directed way that Lucius was just realizing he hated.

"You don't need to explain," Lucius interrupted. "You did what you thought was right."

"I should have planned better," Severus muttered.

"We should talk to Lupin," Lucius answered, mostly because he had no idea what else to say. He knew he should be comforting Severus, saying something to make one of them feel better, but he was too stuck in their pattern. The pattern of one of them hurting and the other ignoring until it was deep enough down that it didn't matter anymore. Mostly.

"He could probably help Draco," Severus answered, and Lucius blinked at him.

"That's not what I meant. Draco doesn't need help from-."

"This again," Severus snapped. "Draco needs to talk to someone who understands. He needs help."

"Not from someone like-."

"Someone like who?" Severus answered, dark eyes flashing as he turned to face Lucius. His expression dark and disapproving. "Someone like your own son?"

"Draco is  _not_ like Remus Lupin."

"And why not?" and Severus asked, still staring, and Lucius knew what was coming next. He  _knew;_ he just didn't know how to stop it. "Because he was a Gryffindor or because he's a half-blood."

"That's not fair, Severus,” Lucius answered, his hand tightening around his cane.

"Is it not?" Severus asked, bowing he head back over his hands, black hair falling over his face, "Am I not only different because you care about me?" and Lucius had no idea what to say that would make any of it matter.

"Severus…" he muttered, trailing off when Severus looked up at him. And his eyes weren't red; they weren't wet—Lucius wondered briefly if he'd ever seen Severus cry—but there was that unmistakable glint of pain in his eyes that Lucius almost wished he still knew how to ignore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you for your comments!


	16. Consequences They Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry talks to Blaise about Draco and a plan.

Harry was at the point where he was beginning to wonder if Weasley actually had a mental affliction. He supposed it was something he shouldn’t think, since it was insulting to people with mental illnesses, but after Weasley blocking the corridor while he talked for close to three minutes, Harry was beginning to get tired of being considerate.

“….so, you see, I _had_ to do it,” Weasley was saying. “I _had_ to let the school know what he was. It simply isn’t right to just let him wander around-.”

“He wasn’t wandering anywhere,” Harry interrupted, and from the way Weasley flinched, he knew his glare wasn’t completely useless. He just wished it was enough to get Weasley to _leave._ “I had it under control.”

Because of Weasley and his _concern_ that Draco had been wandering around, Draco had nearly been suspended. The Ministry had, of course, gotten themselves involved. Only the combined effort of Lucius, Severus, and—much to Harry’s displeasure—Lupin had saved him. They’d been arguing back and forth for the past three weeks with Draco mostly unable to attend classes.

Lucius had been livid, throwing homework at Draco and saying that other people’s stupidity was no reason not to be educated. Harry supposed he agreed, but that hadn’t changed the way Draco’s eyes had flicked whenever he’d left his room or the way his shoulders had tensed when someone made a comment. And Harry didn’t have any idea what to do about any of it.

“Yeah, it looked like it,” Weasley snorted.

“Well, it wasn’t my fault you had a death wish,” Harry told him.

“He could have killed you!” Weasley scowled at him, his face beginning to turn an unattractive red color. “How could you possibly be friends with someone-.”

“What do you want?” Harry interrupted again; he absolutely refused to enter a debate with Weasley about everything that was right about Draco, and everything that annoyed him about Draco. Especially not with Zabini hanging over his head and the full moon and Horcruxes and…

“I want you to understand how wrong he is for you!” Weasley snapped, looking even more frustrated now, “He’s bad for you, and you don’t even see it!” Weasley said, and Harry couldn’t begin to stop the anger and irritation that shot through him. Because Weasley was _wrong_. Draco was so right for him it _hurt._ It was Harry that was wrong for Draco.

“You don’t know anything about him,” Harry hissed back, and he stepped to the side, trying to get around Weasley, but Weasley was moving with him as he’d been doing for the past five minutes, blocking his way. The difference was, Harry had had enough this time. He drew his wand, flicking it toward Weasley.

He heard a startled yelp, and then Weasley was covering his mouth, gagging once before spitting a rather large slug out onto the palm of his hand. And he was pale and shaking as he let out a loud whimper before racing down the hall in the opposite direction as Harry, already gagging again, and Harry figured if nothing else, the spell would keep him from talking about things he knew nothing about.

* * *

"The Ministry still isn't saying anything," Lupin said.

Severus was sitting behind his desk, feeling frustrated as Lucius stood between Severus and Lupin, his lips pressed tight with suppressed annoyance. Lupin was standing in the corner away from the two of them, looking tired and irritated. They'd been arguing for hours, and they still had nothing.

"Then we make them talk to us," Lucius said. "We make them-."

"That will only make things worse," Severus interrupted. "Lucius, you need to keep a level head."

"I've spoken to a couple of people," Lupin answered, ignoring Lucius' glare. "The Order is pulling as much of its weight as it can, but I'm not sure the Ministry will ignore everyone in Hogwarts knowing about him."

"They'll have to," Lucius snapped, his eyes flashing dangerous. "Draco isn't about to be thrown out as if-."

"Lucius," Severus interrupted, his voice quiet and sharp, and Lucius cut off abruptly, his face closing off so fast Severus wondered what exactly he'd been about to say.

"I'm doing all I can," Lupin said.

"You're not doing enough," Lucius answered, tilting his chin up haughtily as he faced the window. And Severus could see from the tension in his shoulders how very upset he was.

The last time they'd even been in the same room, they'd argued. Yelling about blood purity and who was right and who  _should_ be right. And unlike so many other times, Severus  _knew_ Lucius wasn't trying to hurt him, but that didn't change the fact that he had. And as painful as it was to see Lucius conflicted and smarting, that didn't change the fact that Severus was tired of being hurt by him. He was tired of Lucius' believing deep down that Severus was somehow lesser.

He could tell it was true by the way he hesitated before touching him. He could tell it was true by the way Lucius stared instead of comforting him. He could just tell it was true. And as much as he knew and he hated that he was hurting Lucius, a tiny vicious part of him liked the fact that it wasn't him that was being hurt anymore.

He'd felt that way with Lily. Had done so many things he regretted because of that feeling. And it wasn't that he wanted to make the same mistakes with Lucius, he just didn't know how to stop it.

"None of us are doing enough," Severus sighed, feeling somewhere between tired and bitter and angry and having no idea what to do about it.

"It's been almost three weeks," Lucius said, his hand tight around the top of his walking stick. "We should have a solution by now."

"What about Nott?" Lupin asked.

"Disturbingly quiet," Severus answered. "Draco said he talked to him right after the school found out but other than that, he hasn't come to me. I'm not sure if he revealed Draco out of spite or if he was truly making a point."

"What did he want?" Lupin asked.

"He never actually said," Severus said. "Something for the Dark Lord."

"You haven't tried to talk to him?" Lucius asked, and he looked as if he were finally just putting himself together again.

"No. It's not as if I'm planning to give him what he wants."

"I suppose," Lucius answered, turning his head away and looking entirely too conflicted for anyone's sake.

* * *

Harry walked down the corridor, leaving the mess of slugs behind. Before Weasley had cornered him, he’d already been doing something. Granted, it wasn’t a smart something. And frankly, he didn't know what he even was doing. Why he was doing it. Maybe he was  _trying_ to ruin his relationship. Severus would probably say that was exactly like him.

It wasn't like it was a conscious thought of 'oh, yes, I want Draco and Zabini to be together.' It was just that he couldn't get the thought that Zabini would be so much better for Draco out of his head. That anyone would be better for Draco than him.

So, after 3 weeks of Zabini avoiding him, he finally managed to corner him along a fifth-floor corridor. Three weeks of the school staring at Draco, and Harry ducking out, and Draco looking for him, and Harry feeling like he should be there but not being able to.

"Potter," Zabini said, his eyes flicking behind Harry as if he'd try and dash around him or something. Then he sighed, and faced him, apparently coming to terms with his fate.

"I need your help," Harry said.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I think you should ask someone else," Zabini answered, almost turning away again. But Harry shifted so he was in Zabini's way again, blocking his path; Zabini glared. "What are you playing at?"

"Nothing. I need your help," he said, and Zabini stared at him for a long minute before answering, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"With what?"

"You know about Draco's... problem?" Harry asked, and Zabini frowned at him, as if Harry shouting, 'Draco's a werewolf in the middle of the corridor' was better. "Well, he'll need someone to help him over the next full moon, and-."

"Wait," Zabini interrupted, and Harry couldn't decide if he looked angry or offended. "Where will you be?"

"Busy."

"Busy," Zabini sneered at him, the picture of righteous fury over how he was slighting Draco. He turned his face away, offending for Draco’s sake in a way that Harry could never be. "You're asking me to risk my life for your boyfriend, and you're not even going to tell me why you're so  _busy_?"

"Don't even pretend you'd be doing it for me, Zabini," Harry snapped, still facing away from him.

"I wouldn't," he answered, eyes flashing as he stepped into Harry's face. And Harry stepped back, the shudder passing through him before he could stop it. Zabini eyed him, some of his anger seeming to drain from Harry's distress, and he didn't come close again. "Why not ask Lupin? Isn't he a werewolf too?"

"I don't trust Lupin," Harry answered, but the truth was he hadn't really thought about asking anyone else. He could have asked Lucius but talking to Lucius about anything werewolf related was delicate, and Harry wasn't about to walk into that minefield. Besides, he would probably mention it to Severus, and Severus would never leave Harry alone once he found out. He hadn't even bothered to consider Lupin; the man just didn't exist in his circle of people considered humans, much less people he would willingly ask something of.

"But you trust  _me_?"

"No," Harry answered, and Zabini snorted, his eyes flicking up to the ceiling.

"Tell me what's going on or I won't help you."

"Yes, you will," Harry told him, and Zabini narrowed his eyes, looking at Harry as if he'd just been issued a challenge.

"Draco will be fine whether I help him with the full moon or not. He won't be fine if I let you go off and get yourself killed."

"It's not your business."

"You made it my business when you asked me for help."

"No, I-."

"Come one, Potter. It's not like I'll stop you or anything. I don't _like_ you, remember?" Zabini interrupted, and Harry sighed, wondering again how he'd gotten himself into this. Why he'd gotten himself into this.

"I'm going to break into Gringotts."

"What? Are you serious?" Zabini answered, his voice high and echoing against the stone corridor, and Harry wondered vaguely if he could get away with just wiping Zabini’s memory because this hadn't gone anything according to his plan.

* * *

Draco stepped out of the Great Hall, ignoring the glares from the Slytherin table as he did. Almost three weeks of silence when he'd walked into a room, of glares and fearful looks. As he moved down the corridors, he continued to ignore the way people moved away from him. He supposed he'd better just get used to it.

He remembered Lupin pulling him aside the day after the school found out, asking if Draco needed anything, a concerned, serious look in his eyes that made Draco want to scratch his eyes out and tell him he wasn't made out of glass.

"You'll get used to it," Lupin had said, smiling a thin broken sort of smile at him. "It's always hard when people find out, but you'll get used to it."

"Yeah," Draco had answered, wondering vaguely if Lupin knew how unhelpful that was or if he really thought he was being comforting.

Even McGonagall had come to him, pressing a hand down on his shoulder and telling him he could always come to her if someone gave him trouble and his father was busy. He felt like asking he if that only applied to Werewolf problems or if the Gryffindors teased him for doing his homework he could complain to her too.

And he knew he was being difficult, ungrateful. He knew she, and his father, and Severus, and even Harry with his worried green eyes, were only trying to help. But he felt like everyone was treating his secret getting out like the end of the world. And maybe it was. Maybe he'd be kicked out of Hogwarts and have no job and never work in the Ministry like his father had always planned. But he'd prefer not to start mourning until it actually happened.

He walked down the corridor, half-looking for Harry, half-heading toward his room, and half just wandering. Harry had been strange since the last full moon. Not distance exactly but not all there. It was obvious something was bothering him, making him hold back. But whenever Draco would even remotely bring the topic up, Harry would change the subject or find a way to leave the room completely. Whenever they touched at all, or talked about anything serious, Harry was skittish, moving away from Draco with half a smile and a tired look in his eyes that said more than he probably knew.

And Draco knew avoiding him wasn't the way to solve the problem, but he didn't know what else to do. Was tired of trying to solve something when he didn't know what it was. Was tired of everyone around him being worried about what was happening.

"Are you serious?" the voice echoed down the corridor, and Draco stopped, just before the corner. It was obviously Blaise's voice, high and disbelieving.

"Could you be louder?" the other person asked, a low annoyed grumble of sound, and Draco felt as if he was about to fall over. _Harry_. The voice belonged to Harry. Harry, who was apparently still sneaking around talking to Blaise. Blaise, who the last time Draco had seen Harry talking to him had been pale and wide-eyed and haunted. And he was rounding the corner before he really knew what he was doing.

Harry jumped, swiveling around to face Draco with a pale guilty expression before Draco even bothered to say anything. And Blaise's eyes widened as his gaze flicked first from Draco then to Harry and then back again. And they both looked like they had been caught doing something they shouldn't have been doing. And if Draco hadn't already had that talk with Harry he would have jumped to conclusions. As it was, it was all he could do not to jump down both their throats with the possessive wolf side of him an inch from growling at Blaise.

"Draco," Harry said, recovering before Blaise.

"What's going on?" Draco asked.

"Nothing," Harry answered, and Draco remembered him being a better actor.

"We were just talking about Granger and Weasley," Blaise said, and Draco narrowed his eyes. He remembered Blaise being smoother. "They might be up to something."

"I don't think Granger will be involved," Harry answered, his lips twisting with something close to disgust. "She seemed too upset after Weasley and Nott told the school about Draco. Her conscience must have finally kicked in."

"Right, well, good to know," Draco answered, frowning one more time at Blaise as he put a heavy possessive hand on the small of Harry's back. Harry tensed, eyes widening but didn't move away as he let Draco steer him down the corridor and away from Blaise.

They got around the next corner and half-way down the corridor before Harry stopped abruptly, twisting away from Draco's hand to face him, and Draco tried not to let that bother him as he let his hand drop back to his side. Harry's green eyes were narrowed and dark with suspicion, and he was opening his mouth to probably make some accusation about Draco's possessive behavior when Draco beat him to the punch.

"What was that?" he asked.

"What?" Harry answered, eyes narrowing even further, and he shifted from suspicious to defensive in a minute, his body half-turned away from Draco as if he was preparing to run. And Draco had thought they were past all that.

"Harry…" he sighed, and he suddenly felt  _so_ very tired. He pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning against the wall and feeling tired and hurt.

"Draco," Harry stared at him, his green eyes widening a fraction of an inch. He stepped closer, one hand reaching out as if he would touch Draco. Then Draco lifted his head, and it was as if he'd flipped a switched in Harry's head.

Harry turned his head away, clenching his jaw and snapping his hand back down to his side. And he was scampering down the corridor, away from Draco before he could say another word. He sighed again, leaning his head against the wall and looking up at the ceiling.  _No one ever said he'd be easy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you for commenting, my lovelies!


	17. Memories They Uncover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry sneaks out of Hogwarts with some unexpected friends, while Draco undergoes his transformation not so alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: minor references to abuse, rape

Deep down Blaise knew it was terrible of him. He knew he should feel guilty. He should feel guilty that he'd used the information Potter had given him to betray and corner the Gryffindor. Potter himself was certainly angry, his eyes flashing as he shoved his wand against Blaise's throat, his curses low and guttural, and Blaise wondered where Potter had learned language like that.

"You could just tell me what's going on," Blaise interrupted him, biting back his smile. He couldn't be anything but pleased with himself. That he had managed to corner Potter. That he was going to figure out what was going on. And there _was_ definitely something going on. Something he wanted in on.

Because if Potter was the center of it then Blaise wanted to know too. The jealous self-righteous part of him that burned at the fact that Draco has trusted Potter with his secret and not him wanted to know, wanted of the action. And he wasn't going to figure out what it was by staying behind, babysitting Draco and waiting for Potter to come back—as much as he wanted Draco to be fine.

And Draco would be fine. He'd made sure of it. He just wasn’t the answer to making sure Draco would be fine. He’d already proved that much with his little trip into the forest.

"Get lost," Potter snapped, his wand digging further against Blaise's throat.

They were in the middle of the corridor, the only light being Blaise's lit wand that cast shadows across the stone walls and frowning portraits. It was past curfew, and if anyone passed by they would be in definite trouble. Well, Potter wouldn't probably be in that much trouble what with all the rumors of how much he wandered the halls at night, but it  _would_ put a stop to any of his plans of sneaking out of Hogwarts and breaking into Gringotts. Which had been exactly why Blaise had followed him.

Potter either had to take him along or get caught along with him. To Blaise it seemed like the answer was pretty straight forward, but then, he'd forgotten to consider Gryffindor stubbornness.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on," he said, but Potter just sneered at him. It was actually a pretty good sneer, all things considered.

"I've already told you."

"No, you-."

"What's going on?" a sleepy voice interrupted, and Potter jumped, his wand twisting away from Blaise and moving to point in the direction of the voice.

That strange blonde Ravenclaw with dark blue eyes was standing there. The one everyone called Loony Lovegood, though Blaise was sure that wasn't her name. She was in her full robes as if she too had been wandering around past curfew and just titled her head at them, blinking slowly as if it was normal for her to walk up on Harry Potter threatening some Slytherin in the middle of the night.

Blaise didn't know, maybe it was.

"Nothing, Luna," Potter answered, his voice tight.

"Potter's trying to sneak out of the castle," Blaise blurted. He didn't know why he did it. It wasn't like telling Loon- _Luna_ Lovegood was going to help his case, but the words just snapped out his mouth, and she was suddenly frowning at Potter, blinking as if he was some enigma.

"You know a way out of the castle?" she asked, and Blaise stared at her. She could have asked any question, could have questioned a million things, and she had simply chosen to go along with them.

"Of course, I do," Potter snapped, and Blaise raised his eyebrows at him when he shifted under Luna's blue-eyed stare. "In theory."

"In theory," Blaise hissed at him. "Just how half-arsed it this plan of yours?"

"It's not half-arsed! I know what I'm doing; if you would just-."

"Why don't we just fly out?" Luna asked, and Blaise and Potter turned toward her. "The Thestrals, Harry," she clarified, and Potter blinked at her as if he'd just realized what she was talking about, though Blaise still had no idea.

"They'll help us," Luna said, her voice low and confident in the empty corridor.

"I hadn't thought…" Potter muttered, as if this was new information for him. Blaise figured his tiny brain was probably still processing the new information.

"What are Thestrals?" Blaise asked.

"They're kind of like flying horses, but you can only see them if you've seen death," Luna answered, smiling softly, her eyes gentle.

"Yeah, sure," Potter said, his eyes locked on something on the stone wall. "Go with that." And looking between the two of them, Blaise was reminded of being back in the Forbidden Forest, Potter throwing himself between them and the werewolf. Potter’s eyes flashing with something too close to acceptance. Blaise shuddered, turning his eyes away from Harry, suddenly not so surprised that he could see these Thestrals. He was just glad that he couldn't.

"We should go," he said, shifting his feet uncomfortably. "Before anyone comes along."

"There is no we," Potter answered, his head swinging around to glare at Blaise. "You're not coming."

"Don't be ridiculous," Luna interrupted Blaise before he could say anything. "We're your friends." And Potter stared after her as she led the way down the corridor. Then he was turning his eyes toward Blaise, who frowned, shrugged, and hurried after Luna, hoping desperately Potter wasn't somehow expecting him to say  _he_  was his friend too. Really, it was a little too early for declarations of love.

* * *

"Fuck," Draco cursed under his breath, looking around Harry's private room for the hundredth time. As if Harry was hiding under the bed and would just pop out or something. He sighed, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

It was time for them to _go_. It was the full moon; Harry  _knew_  what that meant. And Draco knew they were fighting—were they even fighting? It wasn't like they'd argued. It was more like they were Not Talking. But then, Harry was the expert at Not Talking—but that didn't mean he would disappear on Draco during a full moon, did it?

He’d always— _always—_ been there during Draco’s full moons.

Draco stepped into the corridor, listening to the door slide shut behind him. He'd checked everywhere. The Gryffindor commons, the Great Hall, Severus' private rooms—which had been extremely awkward—the headmaster's office, Lucius' private rooms—which had been worse, the potion's classroom, the Astronomy Tower. The only place he hadn't checked was the woods, but Harry wouldn't head out there without him, would he? He had to know that would freak Draco out.

Draco paced in front of Harry's room, glancing up at the portrait hanging up. It was a blue green garden snake, staring up at Draco and waiting for him to utter the password and come in. Again. He'd once asked Harry the story behind the snake, why it was so specific, but Harry had just smiled vaguely and said he'd once had a friend like it.

He made another pass, listening to the hiss of the portrait. He hadn't been able to find Harry all day. And now he was out of time. If he didn't head into the forest now, he wouldn't have time to make it to his clearing before the transformation overtook him.

And no, it hadn't escaped his notice that Blaise had been missing too.

And no, that didn't bother him.

At all.

This was all perfect timing.

"Draco?" Lupin's voice echoed along the stone corridor, making Draco turn around and snarl at him, his teeth bared in a feral sort of way that he made a note to be embarrassed about later. Lupin just stared at him, his shoulders tensing as if he too were holding himself back. "What are you still doing at the castle?"

"I don't see how that's your business?"

"If you're not going to take the Wolfsbane then you need to head into the forest," Lupin answered, his shoulders tensing even more, and Draco could  _feel_ the bite in his words. "This isn't a debate, Draco."

"You can't tell me what to do!" Draco snarled back, and he was crouching before he knew what he was doing, and Lupin was across from him, looking tensed and ready to tear his throat out.

Then a first year, a brown-haired girl in yellow Hufflepuff robes rounded the corner, her hair braided down across her shoulder. She squeaked loudly when she saw them before turning on her heel and running back the way she came. And all the anger drained out of Draco at what he'd been about to do, at what that girl had just seen. And he was trying to prove he _wasn’t_ a monster. He looked back at Lupin and saw the tired lines, the haggard face.

"Draco, let me help you," Lupin whispered, and listening to the way his voice croaked across the words, somehow, this time, Draco couldn't refuse. He wanted to, but at that moment, he just didn't know how.

* * *

"If we're going to Gringotts, why are we going the wrong way?" Zabini asked, his voice barely reaching Harry what with the wind blowing across his face. He wondered what the chances were that he could just ignore him. "Hey!" Zabini shouted, his voice pitched louder now, and Harry sighed.

"Blaise is right," Luna called from Harry's other side. Her robes billowing around her as her Thestral's wings beat the air. "We're going the wrong way."

"No, we're not," Harry answered. They'd been flying for a while now, it was maybe noon if Harry was reading the sun right. They were all tired and their Thestrals had to be tired too. And he couldn't stop thinking about Draco, about how Draco would be heading into the woods right about now, about how Draco might be alone, about how Harry had never planned it that way, about how Draco was better off without him. About how he had to be.

"Potter!" Zabini yelled. "What are you planning?" Harry pretended not to have heard, and both he and Luna stopped asking, though he could still hear Zabini grumbling under his breath angrily. After another few minutes of flying, they could just see the outline of the prison before them, the expanse of water just starting to form under their Thestral's as they flew.

It took them maybe another ten minutes before they'd reached the edge of where the Dementors were patrolling, and Harry could already feel the cold creeping through his body, the memory of his third-year shooting through him—the panic, the hopelessness. He supposed Lupin had been good for teaching him a Patronus if nothing else.

He could remember the weeks of practice and desperation, being convinced he'd never get it right, being convinced he  _had_ to get it right. He hadn't wanted to relive his mother's murder again, his uncle's hands across his body. It had been bad enough the first time.

"Why are we here?" Zabini asked again as they stopped, hovering at the edge of Azkaban. "I thought we were going to Gringotts?"

"Breaking into Azkaban isn't good enough for you?" he snapped back, and Zabini sneered at him.

"Why  _are_  we here?" Luna asked, eyeing the Dementors warily. One turned toward them, gliding a few feet in their direction before veering sharply to the side. Harry felt himself shiver.

"We're breaking into Bellatrix Lestrage's vault," Harry said. "To do that we need Bellatrix Lestrange." Zabini's eyes widened as Harry spoke, looking somewhere between horrified and shocked. Luna just continued staring at the prison, her lips pursed as if she hadn't heard a word he'd said. "And she was arrested when Voldemort attacked Hogwarts earlier this year."

"You want to break Bellatrix Lestrange out of Azkaban!" Zabini yelled almost before Harry was done speaking, his voice loud enough to echo off the stone walls of the prison in front of them. Several Dementors before them turned, their paths alternating as if they would come toward Harry, Luna, and Zabini before changing again. "Nobody breaks out of Azkaban!" he said, his voice noticeably quieter as he eyed the Dementors.

"Technically, she's done it before," Harry said; Zabini just glared at him.

"We could pretend to be visiting," Luna said abruptly, pointing down. Sure enough, there was a little black stone walkway on the island that lead into the prison. It had a couple brooms hovering next to it and was suspiciously devoid of Dementors. Harry shrugged, already directing his Thestral down.

"What?" Zabini called as Luna followed behind him easily. "You can't be serious!"

They were indeed serious as Zabini discovered a second later when he was left alone with a Dementor heading straight for him. He let out a rather high-pitched yelp and nudged his Thestral to follow behind Luna and Harry. Their Thestrals landed with a thud on the dirt, Harry's immediately pawing the ground as if it were looking for something to eat.

"I'll get you something when we get back to Hogwarts," he promised, patting its neck before following Luna up the path and stepping into Azkaban.

Harry swore the air dropped ten degrees as soon as they were inside, and he was clutching his robe around him, holding his arms around his body. He felt tired, cold, done, hopele—He forced himself to clamp his jaw down on as his teeth began to clatter. It was the Dementors. Lupin had always said that he was particularly sensitive. Looking over at Zabini and Luna, he noticed they weren't near as effected as him. Sure, they were obviously cold, but not on the edge of bawling their eyes out and passing out.

It was just as embarrassing as it had been during third year.

"Harry?" Luna asked, her voice pitched with concern. And even Zabini was tilting his head back to look at him.

"Let's go," he answered.

It took them no time at all to find the check-in desk, with a fresh-faced wizard who looked cold, tired, and wary. He took one look at them and frowned as if already doubting that they should be there.

"Names," he asked.

"Harry Potter," Harry said, his eyes narrowing as the wizard just continuing staring as if he'd never heard the name Harry Potter before. It was an… interesting reaction. "Blaise Zabini, and Luna Lovegood."

"And who are you visiting?"

"Bellastrix Lestrange," Zabini answered, smiling at the wizard widely, his teeth shining. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"She's not cleared to have visitors," the wizard blinked at Zabini, looking unimpressed.

"But, sir, you see, she's an old family friend," Zabini answered, his smile instantly turning into a pout. "I'd really like to check up on her," the wizard blinked at him again before turning to Harry and Luna.

"And I suppose you're family friends too?" he asked, already sounding like he knew the answer.

"Sir-," Zabini started, but Harry just rolled his eyes, whipping his wand out.

" _Stupefy,_ " he muttered, watching as the wizard careened backward, landing with a bang against the floor. Zabini turned to him with an annoyed expression.

"I _had_ that," he snapped.

"Whatever," Harry shrugged, holding his wand up. "Point me Bellatrix Lestrange," his wand immediately pointed to the right. Harry took off down the hall, Luna and Zabini right behind him, and he could already feel the chill as the Dementors closed in on them.

* * *

"What do you mean Potter's not with Draco?" Lucius asked, looking from McGonagall to Hagrid and then back again. And they wondered why he hated them.

"I'm sayin’ it was Lupin who went inter the forest with 'im," Hagrid answered, looking annoyed at Lucius' tone. Not that he could tell what with the blob that the half-giant’s face was.

"I was surprised as well," McGonagall answered. "Though now that I've thought about it, I've not seen Potter all day."

"You've…" Lucius broke off, his hand tightening around his cane. And they wondered why he thought them incompetent.

"I thought he was simply with Malfoy," McGonagall said, her lips tightening severely as she stared at him.

"I see," Lucius answered, and he was fairly sure he did. There was only one place Potter would go on a full moon. When Draco and Severus and Lucius were all too distracted to pay attention. When they would all assume he would be somewhere else and have no one to tell them otherwise.

"Then you see why the Headmaster must be informed immediately. We can't leave Potter to go running off outside of Hogwarts."

"I'll tell him," Lucius said, possibly speaking too quickly if McGonagall's raised eyebrow was anything to go by, but there was nothing Severus could do. Not about this.

"But-."

"I'll tell him," Lucius insisted. McGonagall glared at him but nodded stiffly. He waited as she walked away, the half-giant lumbering away behind her. He pinched the bridge of his nose again. Because really, Harry couldn’t just be a good savior and go into the woods to watch Draco. But then it wasn’t like Lucius couldn't just leave the boy to get locked up in Azkaban.

* * *

Harry lunged forward, twisting to get away from the Dementor he could  _feel_ behind him. His already cast Patronus galloped through the air, plunging through the thing and banishing it. He kept running; they were almost there; he could  _see_ Bellatrix's cell right _there_. Luna was right next to him, her own Patronus swimming beside the air as Zabini ran in front of them.

And they crashed through the opening of the cell, Harry panting and shivering as Bellatrix turned toward them with a sneer. He didn't have time though. There were Dementors everywhere and they needed to leave, and he  _didn't have time_.

" _Imperio_ ," he called, and Bellatrix's eyes instantly clouded over, her body going slack as she became Harry's to control. Harry shivered, shoving the thought—the implications aside. When Severus had first taught him the spell, he'd swore he'd never use it. He remembered Severus talking about loss of control, loss of freedom, loss of choice. And he remembered thinking he knew how it felt for someone to treat someone else as a plaything.

"No!" Bellatrix snarled as Harry's already flimsy hold on her broke, and he could feel himself collapsing, falling, crumbling, someone catching him just before he hit the floor. He could hear his mother's screams echoing in his ears, Vernon's grunting above him as he came, Voldemort's cackling as he rakes his hands down Harry’s leg, the cold taking him over.

 _"Expecto Patronum,_ " Luna's voice yelled above his head and the cold dissipated just barely, but he could still feel himself shivering, shaking.

" _Imperio_ ," Zabini shouted in his ear, and he saw Bellatrix relaxed out of the corner of his eye. He heard the echoes of himself at twelve crying in his ears, remembering when he'd touched himself in his cupboard, coming away with bloody fingers.

"We need to go," Luna said, and Harry suddenly realized it was her who was holding him up. He heard himself whimper, the cold hopelessness that urged him to just  _give up_  seeping into him as his vision dimmed.

"Let's go!" Zabini's voice this time, and they were definitely moving again as Harry finally lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	18. Of Horcruxes and Tranformations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Blaise, and Luna continue with their plan to enter Gringots while Lupin goes through the full moon with Draco.

Harry felt dizzy as he gained consciousness; he felt like he was rocking back and forth, moving around, not on solid ground. He groaned, trying to roll over and someone caught him, hands on his waist as if they had any right to be there. He jumped, wrenching himself away and almost tumbled off the other side of the Thestral in the process.

Fortunately, he heard a loud grunt from below him and managed to grab the Thestral's neck before he fell. As he looked back at Luna's wide-eyed expression, everything came rushing back to him.

"Back with us, then, Potter?" Zabini called, his Thestral flying a few meters away. Bellatrix was riding the third Thestral, staring off with a vacant expression that made Harry sure Zabini was still using  _imperio._ He shivered and chose not to say anything. He _had_ been prepared to do the same, after all; just because he was too weak to actually do it didn't mean he got to judge other people.

"We're almost to Gringotts," Luna said, sitting about as far from him as she could on the limited space provided. It was almost dark, the moon just beginning to appear behind the sunset. And while Harry knew Gringotts would still be open, he couldn't help thinking about Draco again. He would just be starting his change, and Harry couldn't help but hope he wasn't alone. He couldn't help but wish he hadn't left Draco alone. He couldn’t help but remind himself that he hadn’t had a choice.

"We were rather hoping you might tell us what we'd be stealing out of Bellatrix's vault," Zabini said, and Harry finally looked over at him.

"I don't know."

"What?" Zabini snapped, his voice sounding in the air around them, and if there had been anything for it to echo off of, it would have echoed for quite a while. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Harry?" Luna asked, her voice quiet and curious behind him. "What  _are_  you looking for, then? You must be going for something."

"I'm not quite sure," Harry sighed. He supposed there was no point in  _not_ telling them. They were all there now. They _had_ saved his life back at Azkaban. Luna had even helped him find the Diadem before. Besides, what was he going to do when he got to Bellatrix's vault, search every inch himself while Luna and Zabini stood there and watched. It just didn't sound efficient. "It'll be something small, powerful, probably connected to one of the founders of Hogwarts."

"Like Ravenclaw's Diadem?" Luna answered.

"Wait, what?" Zabini asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, ignoring him.

"When we were in the room of requirement, you called it a Horcrux, didn't you?"

"The room of what? Wait—a what?" Zabini asked, sounding annoyed. Annoyed and confused. Harry probably took too much pleasure out of that.

"Did I?" Harry answered Luna.

"Will someone tell me what's going on?" Zabini snapped.

"You said Dumbledore usually found them," Luna nodded, tilting her head at him knowingly. "Does this have to do with Voldemort?"

"Does  _what_ have to do with Voldemort!?" Zabini hissed, his Thestral making a loud grunting whinny as he tugged her nearer Luna and Harry's. And Harry hesitated, but again, what was Luna and Zabini going to do with the information? They'd got him this far.

"Yes," he said slowly. "It does."

"Alright, then," Luna said, still staring at him, her blue eyes intense as if something important had just clicked in her head, and Harry just turned away, having no idea what else to do with her expression.

"Alright, then?" Zabini answered, his voice a loud echoing whine next them. "Alright  _what,_  then?"

* * *

It was different having Lupin there instead of Harry. Where Harry was silent, Lupin never seemed to stop talking. About class, about Werewolf facts, about himself. It was grating on Draco's nerves. Where Harry's silence somehow relaxed him, Lupin's incessant talking made him feel like there was something to be nervous about.

Harry also touched everything. Draco only ever saw him truly relaxed in the forest. His hands brushing across leaves as he turned his face up toward the sky. Lupin was the opposite. He seemed to tense the further in they got, pulling himself away from any branch or wayward limb that could possibly touch him. It was… humanizing in a way. He'd thought of Lupin as some mighty thing that stood on some high moral ground. He was ratty and filthy and somehow proud of it. To see him so nervous was gratifying.

When they reached the clearing, Lupin just stared at him, looking lost, as if he truly didn't know what to do with himself, and Draco rolled his eyes and started stripping before the man could say anything stupid as he'd been doing the entire time.

"You take your clothes off before?" Lupin asked.

"Yes," Draco sighed. "Harry and I don't spend three days naked on the forest floor."

"Right," Lupin answered. "Smart." And he decided to follow Draco's lead.

Draco decided that was the first smart thing Lupin had done since they'd entered the forest.

The change was different with Lupin there too. Where Harry had kept him under control, kept him in the clearing, kept him relaxed, calm, Lupin's werewolf seemed to excite Draco's. He remembered flashes of running, his blood pumping, howling loudly to be heard over Lupin. He remembered hunting down the wayward rabbit that crossed their path, challenging Lupin for the kill. He remembered collapsing exhausted on the edge of a riverbank as the sun rose, Lupin breathing heavily beside him with the smell of blood still heavy in the air.

* * *

Blaise didn't like it. He didn't like the way they just waltzed into Gringotts with Bellatrix  _Imprioed,_ hoping no one would ask them any questions. He wasn't the best with unforgivable—with reason—and he really hoped he managed to keep her in check as they made their way through.

"Key, please," the goblin said, looking down at them suspiciously. And Bellatrix held her key out readily, her mind pushing sharply against Blaise's as the goblin took it from her. He supposed it was a good thing the goblin didn't really care if Bellatrix was here of her own free will or not.

They were led down the corridor, piled into the cart and shot down the tunnel in the direction of Bellatrix's vault. The goblin was sitting firmly in the front seat, his eyes fixed ahead as if they weren't even there. Bellatrix was behind him, looking off the side of the cart with the same dazed expression. Blaise and Luna were sitting beside each other with Potter right behind them, sitting tense and staring off behind them as the cart rumbled along.

It only took them about ten minutes to track down to Bellatrix's vault, the cart stopping along a hard-rocky ledge and opening to let first the goblin out, then Bellatrix, then the rest of them. The goblin stared balefully at them, waiting as they piled out of the cart. As Blaise's feet touched the rocky ledge, a horribly feeling sunk into him. He just _knew_ something was about to go wrong. It had been too easy. They should have been questioned. Bellatrix should have been pushing against him more.

The goblin turned on his heel, leading them deeper in. He stopped before a large cavern, eyeing them darkly for a long minute before gesturing around the next corner. Luna frowned at him as if even she sensed something wrong.

"What's through there?" Potter asked, his voice low, suspicious.

"The Lestrange vault, of course," the goblin answered. Blaise narrowed his eyes, but Bellatrix was quiet in his head, content. It was a bad sign. Potter and Luna exchanged a look.

They didn't have much of a choice.

Potter stepped around the corner first, freezing at whatever he saw, and Luna was backtracking, back into Blaise, stepping on his toe. And all Blaise saw was a flash of bronze white skin, jagged silver spikes and large bat-like wings before the fire was tumbling toward them.

He closed his eyes, stumbling back as pain split his skull, as Bellatrix started shoving, pushing, yanking against his control. And he was panicked. He couldn't focus. He was waiting for the fire to touch him, and he couldn't hold onto her. She slipped through his mind easily, and somewhere far away he heard her loud laugh echo in his ears.

"Shite!" he heard, and that was Potter's voice.

He opened his eyes. Potter's wand was raised, the shield held up between the dragon's breath and them, and he didn't know how Potter could possibly have gotten his wand up fast enough, but it was clear he had saved them. Blaise opened his mouth to warn him, watching as Bellatrix was raising her wand, but all he managed to do was stare as Bellatrix's curse caught Potter straight in the chest, blasting him across the ground with a loud scream that send a chill through Blaise.

"Harry!" Luna yelled, and there was a loud screech as the dragon yanked against its chains, moving toward and away, flapping its wings and trying to take flight but being unable to.

"You stupid girl!" Bellatrix said, stalking forward. Why hadn't Blaise taken her wand? He'd thought about it, but then he'd thought the goblins might ask her for it. He should have taken it—he should have.

" _Stupefy,_ " Luna called, pointing her wand, but Bellatrix cast her spell aside easily. Blaise stumbled to his feet, only just realizing that _he_ didn't have his wand. He must have dropped it when the dragon had blown fire, when Bellatrix had gotten free.

Merlin, his head was pounding.

" _Petr-_ ," Luna tried again, but she was too slow. And Bellatrix was raising her wand again, some unforgiveable curse on her lips, and Blaise had just seen his wand, shining against the black stone, but he knew he wouldn't reach it in time.

" _Avada Kadavra_ ," the voice was soft, silky smooth, and Bellatrix obviously didn't see it coming. Her face went slack, her jaw relaxing, and then she was falling, collapsing to the ground, dead.

Blaise turned, his head beating as he did. He'd fully expected to see Potter, though he'd had no idea how he could have recovered so fast. Instead, Lucius Malfoy stood there, a goblin at his side, obviously  _Imperioed,_ with his long blonde hair braided over his shoulder and an angry expression on his face.

* * *

Draco woke up before Lupin, feeling sore and stretched out across an unfamiliar part of the woods. He had no idea where his clothes were. No idea where _he_ was. Lupin was lying a little way away from him, breathing slowly.

He got to his feet carefully, feeling self-conscious as he looked around. They were by a riverbed, the water flowing gently down-stream. He didn't hear any wildlife around them, didn't see anything. He was covered in dirt, his hair a complete disaster. He raised his hand to run through his hair, coming away with a couple twigs and blood. He stared at his fingers, trying to remember where it had come from. What— _who_ he had killed.

"We hunted a rabbit last night," Lupin's voice answered for him. When he looked over, Lupin didn't look too much better than he felt, laying across his back and staring up at the tree canopy with a pained expression on his face. "Ugh," he groaned, struggling to sit up. "I'm too old to be running around like that anymore."

"We hunted a rabbit?" Draco asked.

"Yeah," Lupin answered, looking over. Draco sat abruptly, covering himself with his hands. "The remembering comes with time. The longer you have the curse, the more you'll remember the transformation."

"Oh," Draco swallowed. "So, we didn't…"

"No."

"Right."

They sat in awkward silence for a long minute, staring away from each other as if they hadn't run through the forest as werewolves last night. Draco sighed to himself; as sore and dirty and tired as he felt now, he also felt a lot less… confined than he usually did after a transformation. He felt free somehow. As if that was how it was supposed to be.

"You probably have questions," Lupin said, and it was only then that Draco realized how quiet it had gotten. The forest coming alive around them with the sounds of animals and bugs and the wind through the trees.

"I… don't know," Draco answered, and he really didn't. Somehow, he felt like he was betraying Harry if he gave in. But he also felt as if he was betraying himself if he didn't. He wanted to know, but he didn't know if he should.

"I'm only trying to help you, Draco," Lupin said, his voice scratchy, and Draco suddenly remembered them howling up at the moon. He remembered how free he had felt, how powerful, and capable. He'd never felt like that before. He wanted to feel like that again.

"You've done that before?" he asked.

"Back when I was in school," Lupin answered, and Draco knew that it was the exact question he'd been waiting for Draco to ask. "It was before Wolfsbane had been invented. Me and a group of my friends, who were Animagus, would go out into the woods on a full moon and run like we just did. We called ourselves the Marauders."

"Who were they?"

"James Potter, Harry's father, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black," Lupin answered, looking past Draco, his eyes far away. "They always insisted on keeping me company, even though I told them it was dangerous. It had all been Sirius' idea. He'd followed me one night when I was away, something about me always getting into trouble, though he was always the trouble-maker," Lupin smiled a sad sort of smile, his eyes despairing and thoughtful and full of an ancient kind of grief, and the truth hit Draco. "They kept me out of danger, kept me safe, and I never really realized how much I relied on him until he was…" Lupin trailed off, his voice getting lost in the rustling of leaves.

Draco remembered when Lupin had told him about mating, when he had smiled at him sadly and told him it didn't matter if he wasn't mated yet—as if he knew. Because he did. Because he had been.

"Sirius Black died last year," Draco muttered, his voice soft. Lupin turned to look at him gloomily.

"He did. He died saving Harry after Snape was kidnapped," Lupin answered. Draco blinked at the bitterness in Lupin's tone, at the way Lupin's lips twisted as he frowned and turned away. "Sirius was in Azkaban for so long. For a crime he didn't commit, and I'd just gotten him back, and then he died." Lupin sighed, letting out a breath, his shoulders relaxing as he lowered his head.

"That's why you and Harry don't like each other," Draco said, and Lupin started, blinking over at him.

"What? No, Harry doesn't trust me, because he thinks I betrayed him during his third year."

"Did you?"

"Of course not," Lupin sighed. "That year was complicated. It was the year Sirius escaped from Azkaban, and I made mistakes. I should have told Harry he was at Hogwarts. I should have done a better job trying to help him understand, but well, it doesn't matter now."

"So, you  _did_ betray him," Draco answered, and maybe it was wrong. After all, Lupin was sitting naked across from him, in more ways than one, but all Draco could see was the anger, the hurt in Harry's eyes, the way Lupin must have made him take three steps back in trusting other people, the way he must have hurt him.

"Draco," Lupin said, looking him straight in the eyes. "What wouldn't you do for your mate?"

And Draco thought of Harry, of his few and far between smiles that shone, of his dark green eyes that held all his emotions if you would just bothered to look, of the way he was so hesitant, so scared to touch, of the way he loved with everything he had, even though he was so scared of being broken, and Draco really didn't know if there was an answer.

* * *

 

Lucius didn't know what he'd been expecting to find. Certainly, not what he did find. But then he supposed it was to be expected. Because of course, Harry would find the most dangerous way to break into Gringotts possible, by  _imperioing_ Bellatrix Lestrange of all people.

Lucius wanted to smack the boy. Except said boy was currently laying in a small pile of his own blood.

"What did she do to him?" the Slytherin, Blaise Zabini, asked.

"Severing Charm," Lucius sighed. He fumbled at Harry's robes; there were two slashes cutting across his chest, making a sort of parallel lines. They were deep, bleeding heavily, and Lucius had no doubt that Bellatrix would had modified them in some way to be extra painful or not heal easily.

"We should go," the girl with blonde hair in Ravenclaw robes spoke. Lucius had no idea who she was, though he was sure he'd seen her with Harry before.

"Yes," he answered, trying his put his hands under Harry, to lift. Immediately, the boy stirred, shifting, opening his eyes with a gasp as if he were just realizing where he was.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Potter," Lucius sighed, somewhere between frustrated and relieved. He was going to have a conversation with Severus about teaching his child how to take better care of himself when this was over. "Stay calm. We'll get you out of-."

"No!" Harry tried to sit up, gasping out a startled hiss of pain as he did. "We can't leave."

"Are you crazy?" Zabini answered. "Of course, we have to leave."

"No!" Harry snapped back. "If we leave without finding it, we'll just have to come back." He looked at Lucius, his eyes firm and solid, staring hard at him. Lucius wanted to tell Harry that it didn't matter, that they needed to take care of him before he  _died_.

But there was the undeniable truth of the matter that Harry was right. As much as Lucius didn’t want him to be.

"I didn't want to take anyone with me, because I knew you would do this," he said quietly, his voice trembling and weak. "You think my life is more important than defeating Voldemort, but it isn't."

And Lucius didn't know that he agreed with that. He raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He could do it; he could force Harry to come back to Hogwarts with him; the boy was weak enough, tired enough. But that didn't mean he wouldn't do the same stupid thing again.

"Fine," he breathed out.

"What?!" Zabini said, and the girl just stared at him, her eyes bright and understanding and worried as she helped him lift Harry to his feet. He gritted his teeth against his cry of pain, and they made their way toward Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. And Lucius hoped against hope that there was something worth finding inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! You're all awesomesauce. The expensive kind ;)


	19. To Be There for Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius, Harry, Blaise, and Luna return from Gringotts. Draco and Lupin return from the forest. No one is particularly happy to find out what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual content ahead
> 
> This is my favorite Lucius/Severus chapter! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> And also, so sorry for the lateness of this one!

Severus had a spectacular talent of tending to Harry while also glaring up at Lucius. Lucius had a feeling he knew where he'd developed the habit.

Fortunately, they'd been able to locate the Horcrux fairly easy. It had been stacked at the top of Bellatrix's vault, displayed with pride and shining. Harry had stared and pointed at the golden goblet with Helga Hufflepuff's ensign on it before promptly passing out. After that, it had only been a matter of breaking out of Gringotts. Fairly simple when one had an ensorcelled goblin on one’s side.

Unfortunately, by the time they arrived back at Hogwarts, Harry was pale and barely breathing, looking close to death as Lucius dismissed both the Ravenclaw girl and Zabini before rushing him to Severus.

Severus' lips twisted, his long hair swinging into his face as he leaned away. Lucius stepped closer, waiting for him to say something—anything. He’d been working over Harry for close to thirty minutes, and Lucius wasn't stupid. He had seen first-hand how deep Bellatrix’s severing curse had gone.

"He'll have scars," Severus said finally, and Lucius felt himself relaxing, finally about to breathe again. And then Severus was turning to look at him, dark eyes blazing and furious.

"Severus-," Lucius started, but Severus was already brushing past him, storming toward the door and slamming it behind him. And Lucius knew Severus was telling him not to follow; Severus was telling him he didn't want to see him, but just this once, maybe just this once, Lucius  _wanted_ to be a part of Severus' emotions instead of just the cause of them.

Just once.

So, he was turning on his heel, running out the door after Severus before he could think how very unrefined he looked, how very unMalfoy the whole thing was. And Severus had barely gotten halfway down the corridor when Lucius grabbed him by the arm and dragged him through a door and into an empty classroom.

"Let go of me!" Severus snapped, yanking his arm away from Lucius, glaring at him from under his greasy hair. And it didn't take a genius to figure out how gorgeous he was when he was angry. Not tradition beauty, no. Lucius had never thought Severus was traditionally beautiful, but he had always loved Severus' spark. The way he held his emotions at the tip of his fingertips, so easy to spill over and yet so far from being discovered. And when Severus was angry, it was gorgeous, because Lucius finally  _knew_  that there was heat and passion behind Severus' mask of cold indifference.

"I don't think I will," Lucius answered, stepping closer, and Severus stepped away, glaring even harder, his dark eyes flashing.

"So  _now_ you're going to come bother me?" he asked, his voice low and dark. "When I want you anywhere else."

"What are you talking about?" Lucius answered, his hand clenching down on his cane as he stepped back, defensive.

"How could you?!" Severus bit out, his voice loud and echoing in the small classroom. "How could you have taken Harry and just-."

"I did no such thing!" Lucius interrupted. "Harry went off on his own. I only went after him."

"Then you should have come and got me!" Severus insisted, shaking his head, long hair flying everywhere as he did. And he looked agitated, angry, and… hurt. And Lucius was only just beginning to realize how hurt. "You should never have left without me!"

"I couldn't. You were-."

"Do you have any idea how I felt when you came in? Covered in blood, carrying Harry in your arms?" Severus snapped out, his eyes shining darkly, looking impossibly venerable. "I know you may not care about Harry but-."

"I care about him too," Lucius snapped back, and something in his voice quieted Severus. Maybe because it was the truth. It surprised Lucius how very much it was the truth. It surprised him that he had been every bit as worried about Harry as he had when he'd found Draco bleeding on the floor of their mansion after the werewolf attack. He had known he cared about the boy, but he hadn't known he loved him as if he were his own child.

"I'm…" Lucius swallowed; he didn't remember the last time he'd apologized to someone. Perhaps it had been before he'd left school. Certainly, it had been before his father died. He had never been much good in the first place, and even now, the words stuck in his throat. Severus seemed to understand him though, because his eyes widened as he stared back at Lucius. "I didn't mean to…"

Severus didn't say anything as he stepped forward, Lucius trailing off as he did, and then they were colliding, slamming into each other. And Severus' tongue was sliding forward before Lucius even knew to open his mouth, sending a wet line down the seam of his lips that was somehow delicious before he was yanking his mouth open for Severus.

Severus' hands traced across his hips, coming up and over his ribs to track over his robes until they could pull at the knots, yanking Lucius' robes lose and pulling them aside, throwing them over his shoulders and into a pile on the floor. And Lucius would have been indignant, but Severus was kissing him, his tongue in his mouth, his fingers fiddling with the buckle of his slacks, pushing Lucius back until his arse was against a desk.

And Lucius had never been in this position. Sure, he had let other men—woman be in charge during their encounters, but he had never felt—owned. And there was no other word for what Severus was doing.

Lucius groaned, throwing his head back, and Severus' hand was suddenly in his hair, yanking at the braid, pulling it, and it hurt gloriously, and he didn't want it to stop. And this went against everything he had grown up knowing, but he was achingly hard, and-

"Merlin, don't stop," he heard himself moan. There was a harsh intake of breath against his throat before Severus went back to licking, sucking at him, and he knew there would be a mark there and the thought was deliciously glorious. Even though somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered how he’d always detested the idea of people marking him in the past. One hand working its way down his button, Severus followed with his mouth, and Lucius was only half aware that he was breathing harshly, sprawled half on top of a desk in an empty classroom like a horny teenage, and he  _didn't care._ He didn’t care that this was the most compromising position he’d ever been in, that he’d never been less Malfoy-like.

He gasped when his slacks came down, his feet leaving the floor, and he was clutching the desk, and Severus was suddenly there, holding Lucius up, mouthing at his perineum. He gasped, one hand coming up to cover his mouth as something between a moan and sob opened up inside his chest. He had never been particularly vocal in bed before; it was something his partners had always complained about, but now it was as if he couldn't keep it in.

Then Severus was moving down, licking around his hole, sucking long and hard before inserting his tongue, and Lucius was crying out. He couldn't help it. He'd almost never let anyone  _touch_ him down there, let alone rim him. He'd never entertained the idea of anyone fucking him, and now Severus was down there, staring at his hole, putting his tongue back inside, and he wanted nothing more than for Severus to get his tongue out and just stick his cock _in_.

Severus had his hand wrapped around himself, on hand on Lucius' thigh as his tongue went past the ring of muscle again, roughly, no mercy, and Lucius was suddenly coming, the thought ringing through his head that Severus would probably fuck him the same rough way. He felt Severus tense under him as he cried out, his come squirting onto his stomach and getting onto his shirt, and when he looked down it was obvious from Severus' dark eyes that he had just come too.

Lucius laid back on the desk, staring up at the ceiling as he panted and feeling somewhere between shocked and amazed.

"Well," he said finally. "That was different."

* * *

"What's going on?" Draco asked, looking into the potions classroom to see Harry, Lucius, and Severus gathered around one of the cauldrons. There was steam coming out the top, bubbling acidic green steam that Draco recognized fairly quickly as the poison that Severus and his father had been working on for the past month or so. The poison they were hoping would destroy Horcruxes.

Lupin was hovering behind him, both of them standing half in the room in dirty clothes that they'd somehow managed to find before they'd exited the forest just as the sun was dipping below the horizon. They'd been in the woods the past three days, having only left maybe an hour ago, since the last full moon was long past. And Draco had just wanted to go to his room and take a hot bath and get in bed. He didn't need this—whatever this was.

"Draco," his father said, both he and Severus turning toward him with a faint expression of relief. Harry, however, kept his head down, angled away, his shoulders stiff, and if Draco needed any more confirmation of what he'd done while Draco was too busy during the transformation to stop him, that was it.

"You went to Gringotts, didn't you," he said, and it wasn't a question, and Harry didn't bother to turn, didn't bother to answer.

"What?" Lupin asked.

"We've already talked to him about his recklessness," Severus hiss quietly, turning his dark angry gaze over to Harry, who just turned his face even further away from them. "Dragging other students into it as well."

"Right," Draco snapped, feeling the anger, the protectiveness, the possessiveness, fill him up, eat him away from the inside. Other students. It wasn't hard to guess who, not with the overheard conversation, and Blaise being missing. And it was all too easy to see Harry and Blaise running through the corridors of Gringotts together without him.

He shoved the growl he could feel rising in him aside. Now wasn't the time. It was easier to push past now that he knew what it was. Now that he knew it was because Harry was his mate. That Harry was his, and that he had a  _right_  to feel the way he did. "And did you find anything?" he didn't bother to keep the bite out of his voice.

"Perhaps," Lucius answered, his voice quiet, suspicious as he cast a glance over Draco's shoulder, straight at Lupin.

"Why was I not told of any of this?" Lupin asked, stepping further into the room. "The Order-."

"It wasn't your business," Harry interrupted, his voice rough as he spoke over Lupin, and Draco almost winced at the sound. He sounded terrible—as if he was somewhere between pained and angry, and he hadn't bothered to speak in days. And Draco wondered abruptly if Harry had been hurt during his little adventure.

"If you're fighting Voldemort-," Lupin started to argue, but Draco ignored him completely.

"Harry," he stepped forward, and Harry finally  _finally_ turned to look at him. His green eyes were soft, vulnerable, raw. It was obvious he was upset about something. Something that went a lot deeper than Draco yelling at him just then. Draco remembered the way Harry had half avoided him the last month, the way he'd been skittish, afraid. And Draco should have seen that there was something going on with him that went past the school figuring out Draco's secret.

"We should see if the poison works," Lucius said, clearing his throat at the uncomfortable silence. Harry's cheeks turned a bright red before he pulled his eyes away from Draco's, nodding vaguely. Draco sighed, moving closer to the cauldron.

"What are you trying to destroy?" Lupin asked, his voice wary and annoyed.

"The Dark Lord's soul," Severus said simply. His fingers were wrapped around the diadem, as he raised it above the cauldron. There was a long second of suspension before he dropped it in, and it landed with a loud plunk and sizzling sound. Draco clamped his hands over his ears as a loud scream filled the room; a wailing echoing from the cauldron as the Horcrux was destroyed.

After a minute, the sound stopped, and he cautiously uncovered his ears, watching as everyone else did the same. Harry was the only one who hadn't moved, staring into the cauldron with that unreadable expression of his.

"Do you think it worked?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Harry answered; Severus just sighed as he picked up a large golden goblet emblazoned with Hufflepuff's seal, and the process repeated itself.

"Someone needs to tell me what's going on here," Lupin said, his voice tight. "Now."

"You don't need to know anything," Harry answered.

"Draco," Lupin turned to him, wearing that same determined expression he'd worn when he'd been saying he was only trying to help. And again, Draco didn't know what to do. He couldn't actually  _tell_  Lupin the truth; it was a betrayal of Harry, and they were already on slippery enough ground. And yet, it felt as though he could trust Lupin. He felt as though there was nothing to really worry about.

"It's something Dumbledore told Harry he needed to do," he said finally, and Lupin frowned at him. Harry made a loud noise in the back of his throat and left the room, shoving roughly around Lupin as he did.

"Harry," Draco groaned, already chasing after him.

"Leave me alone," Harry called behind him as they rounded the first corner. And maybe it wasn't fair, but his words sent Draco's already bubbling anger tumbling over the top, spewing out of him and making him shake. He was so tired of chasing after Harry only to have him pull back at the last second. Of having to worry about which lines to cross and what he had done wrong this time.

"Is that why you left me to deal with a full moon by myself?" Draco called down the corridor as he stopped walking. Harry froze in front of him, his whole-body tense as he listened. "Because you wanted me to  _leave you alone_?"

"You weren't supposed to be alone," Harry muttered, his voice just loud enough for Draco to hear.

"No," he snapped, and part of him wanted to step forward to get close to Harry, to feel his heat, and part of him wanted to stay as far from him as possible, to just leave now, and he suddenly saw the appeal of avoiding and running. "Because Lupin was with me. Lupin, who you hate. _Come on_ , that couldn't have been your plan," and Harry was turning, his green eyes dark and full of anger and hurt as he glared back at Draco.

"You shouldn't have spent the full moon with him," he said. "You can't trust him."

"You know, he told me about why you hate him," Draco answered, and Harry's eyes tightened, his lips twisting with a feral sneer.

"I doubt that."

"He told me how you thought he betrayed you, and I defended you," Draco continued, and Draco knew he was being intentionally cruel, but he couldn't help it. "But I don't know, maybe you really are just as unreasonable as he says." Harry's jaw clenched, his green eyes sharp and hard with something between pain and anger that he used to be so much better at hiding.

"If you want to break up with me, just do it," Harry said, his eyes rigid, his voice just a whisper of sound between them, leaving Draco with nothing to do but gape at him.

Leave it to Harry to make a jump like that.

"What?" Draco answered, and he could feel the anger ebbing away, replaced by shock and confusion and- "Why would I—You're the one who left me alone on a full moon to go run off with  _Blaise,_ " he sneered at the name, feeling his lips curling over it.

"Zabini?" Harry snapped, his voice curling around the name just as Draco's had. "You mean Blaise Zabini, who's in love with  _you_ ," the volume of his voice rose sharply as he spoke, his eyes blazing, and he was suddenly crossing the space between them, getting in Draco space to yell. "Blaise Zabini, who I asked to stay with you during the full moon, because he would be better than me! Anyone would be better for you than me."

"Harry-," Draco tried, but Harry shoved him, his hand connecting sharply with Draco's shoulder, sending him tumbling into a wall. And it shouldn't have sent a spike of arousal, of want through him, but it did. It made him want to grab Harry and drag him forward and show him just how wrong he was about anyone possibly being better for Draco than him.

"The school finds out you're a werewolf, and I can't even be there for you," Harry continued, looking absolutely disgusted with himself. "I don't know how to touch you; I don't know how to talk to you; I left you on a full moon, because I was afraid, and the whole time I was thinking about how much I regretted it, because I couldn't even do  _that_  without being selfish!" Harry cut himself off with a loud gasp, and Draco only just realized he was shaking, his shoulders trembling, and he could see in the quiet that followed Harry's words that he was close to crying.

And Draco had never considered that Harry hadn't thought it had been Draco that did something wrong but himself. Though he supposed the idea made more sense than he gave it credit for.

"I don't care," he said, and Harry eyes widened.

"What?"

"I don't care about any of that," he repeated, and he felt like he was on the edge of a cliff, getting ready to jump and having no idea whether Harry would be there to catch him or not. "I love you, and I want you. Not Blaise."

And for one terrifying minute, Harry just stared at him, his eyes wide and his lips parted, and Draco really thought he was going to bolt in the other direction. But it had needed to be said. It had needed to be said for so long; it had been true for so long.

Then Harry lunged forward, his hands clumsily clinging to Draco's cheekbones as he slanted his mouth over Draco's. He grunted in surprise, before wrapping his arms around Harry back and drawing him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your amazing reviews!


	20. All the Pieces Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... you don't get a summary this time ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual content and references to sexual abuse. (These are in different sections of the story.)
> 
> We're posting just a little early here, because why not! There won't be an update until Friday.
> 
> Also, this is my favorite Harry/Draco chapter! Yay. Been waiting a while for this one. Enjoy!

Draco panted against his lips, and Harry figured he should be pulling back, letting him breathe. Was that proper etiquette? He had no idea. He kept kissing Draco, feeling out of breath himself. Lost somewhere between Draco and his desire and not wanting to stop. Part of him knew that couldn't possibly be alright. That couldn't be ok? The other part of him was so beyond alright. It was screaming at him that there was a world of touch and passion and desire that he was only beginning to understand.

His hands were on Draco's face, tracing down to rest on the curve of his shoulders and feeling the scars where Greyback had marked him—the scars that made Draco a werewolf. Draco shuddered at his touch, his arms around Harry's back pulling him closer, tighter against his body.

And Merlin, Harry wanted him with everything he had. He wanted to touch Draco, to be touched by him. As terrified as he had ever been of the consequences, after looking straight into Draco's silver-grey eyes and hearing him say he loved him no matter his mistakes, he couldn't find it in himself to expect Draco to hurt him.

Draco wrenched his mouth away with a loud gasp, their breathing echoing down the corridor around them, and Harry was suddenly painfully aware of their surroundings. He felt his face heat up, embarrassingly hot. He wasn't sure how his face could have gotten any redder but somehow, it must have. What if someone had walked in on them?

"Harry," Draco groaned his arms tight around him, his forehead falling onto Harry's shoulder.

"I…" Harry answered, his voice high and even he caught the uncertainty in it. "We should…"

"Harry," Draco said, lifting his head just enough to look at him through his lashes. "We don't have to do anything else." And Harry knew he was serious, that he wouldn't push him, but he could also see the frustration in his eyes, he could feel Draco's cock hard against his thigh, and as much as all that scared him, he wanted it. He wanted it so badly it hurt.

"No," he muttered, his voice a whisper of a breath between them. "No, I want this."

* * *

They were standing in the middle of Harry's room, their robes on the floor, Draco's shirt having followed sometime after. They were standing apart from each other, only their mouths touching as they continued to kiss, over and over and over. And Draco could feel himself growing hard, the frustration, the need to touch and be touched burning through him.

He pulled away, Harry letting out a strangled exhale as he did. And Harry's eyes flicked down his body, somewhere between awe and horror reflected in his gaze, and Draco opened his mouth to just tell him they didn't have to do this—that maybe cuddling would be fine instead, even though his cock was starting to hurt, and he had really been looking forward to finally seeing Harry naked. And then Harry was looking up at him, his pupils blown wide with lust, determination shining in his eyes, and Merlin, he was...

"Can I touch you?" Harry asked, soft, uncertain.

"Yes," Draco answered immediately, taking Harry by the wrist, leading his hand up until his palm was against Draco's stomach. He bit his lip as he guided Harry's hand up and up and over his chest and over his nipple. And Harry gasped in front of him, his eyes wide before he was stepping forward, taking Draco's bottom lip between his own and bringing his other hand into play. He stroked up and down and around, gently caressing Draco's stomach and chest and sides, and it was all horribly frustratingly not enough.

Draco put his hands along Harry's waist, running them down and stopping just before he reached his trousers. He tugged Harry’s shirt, gently, making his intention clear, and Harry froze against him. Harry leaned back, his mouth leaving Draco's with a wet pop that shouldn't have gone straight to his cock but did anyway. And Harry was panting as he looked up at Draco through his eyelashes, green eyes wide, and if he was anyone else Draco would have accused him of teasing.

"Can we…" he trailed off, biting his lip nervously, and Draco desperately wanted to bite it for him, but he  _knew_  Harry had to get through this if he ever wanted him to get out of his clothes. "I just-," his already flushed face went even more red, and Draco could feel the heat of it from even where he was standing. "Can we both be naked?" and Draco groaned; it was so awkward and innocent and  _Harry._

"I wouldn't want to do it any other way," he answered, and Harry was honest to Merlin smiling up at him, his hands reaching for the hem of his own shirt, tugging up at the same time Draco was, and it was falling to the floor. He put one palm flat against Harry's stomach, watching as he breathed, his bottom lip between his teeth as stared at Draco. Harry was skinny, his pale skin stretched taunt across his ribs, two parallel scars running across his chest, the long gash disappearing around his back from where Draco had scratched him, his stomach a hollow arch under Draco's hand, and he was-

"Beautiful," Draco murmured, his hands falling to the button of Harry's trousers, and Harry was staring at him as if he himself was from another world as he undid them, sliding down Harry's slim legs and letting them drop, leaving Harry in only his pants. “You’re beautiful.”

"I am?" Harry asked, and there was no hiding the incredulousness in his voice.

"You are," Draco answered, undoing his own trousers and slipping both them and his pants off. "Gorgeous."

He stepped out of them, taking Harry by the hand as he backed toward the bed. Harry followed him easily, his green eyes never leaving Draco's face. On instinct, Draco sank down on his back, pulling Harry on top of him, cradling Harry’s hips between his knees, sliding his hands down and under the waistband of Harry's pants before.

"Don't stop," Harry told him, his voice raw and open. He had his eyes closed now, his glasses slipping down his nose. His right hand propped up by Draco's head, holding himself up, the other stroking along Draco's neck, his fingertips touching the scars there before falling lower to his chest, to his stomach, touching everywhere he could reach.

Draco shoved Harry's pants down, letting them fall around his ankles and watching as Harry kicked them off his feet. Draco slid his hands back up the back of his legs, stopped when Harry tensed. Draco immediately took his hands away from Harry's arse, relishing in the way Harry relaxed against him again, pressing his body against Draco's.

And they both moaned when their bare cocks connected. Harry's head dropped to Draco's shoulder, his breath coming in short pants as Draco took them both in hand, stroking once, twice. Thankfully there was enough precum along the both of them to avoid it being uncomfortable, because he really didn't find it likely that Harry had any lube.

Harry let out a strangled gasp, his head tilting to capture Draco's mouth with his. And Draco kissed him back, passionate, dedicated, loving, pressing his tongue inside and then retreating, loving how Harry chased after him. Draco took Harry's hand in his, leading it down to their connected cocks, and Harry groaned against his mouth, his hand picking up Draco's rhythm easily.

Two more strokes and Harry was coming, gasping and tensing on top of Draco, his eyes still closed, his face the picture of agonized desire. And it only took one look at him for Draco to follow him over, his legs tightening around Harry's waist, his body shuttering. And he couldn't help how right it all felt, how perfectly all the pieces came together between them.

* * *

Lucius followed Severus into his private rooms, shutting the door behind him. Severus was already at his tea table, pouring the kettle out with his back turned to Lucius. The air had been stagnant between them the past couple days, awkward. Lucius didn't know what to do. Obviously, sex had been insufficient to solve their problems.

"Tea?" Severus asked.

"Please," Lucius answered, and Severus sent it over to him with a quick flick of his wand. Then he was turning back to the table, pouring an obscene amount of sugar in his cup. Lucius would have said something about it, but it would have only put Severus in a worse mood. If there was such a thing as a worse mood for him right then.

"My classes have been horrible," Lucius said, twirling his tea in his hand; Severus' dark eyes flicked to him then away; one eyebrow raised. "There's this Hufflepuff that explodes something every time we make a potion."

"Neville Longbottom?" Severus answered. "He's actually a Gryffindor."

"Oh," Lucius answered, followed by a long beat of uncomfortable silence before he worked himself up to speaking again. "I-."

"Why didn't you just come get me?" Severus asked, his voice cutting across Lucius', and he was staring across the room with his dark eyes intense, his face flushed, and Lucius wondered vaguely if he'd really meant to ask or if it had been an accident.

"I…" he faltered. He _had_ a good reason; he knew he did. He'd thought it through. But suddenly looking into Severus' dark eyes, it didn't seem near good enough. "You were running the school, and I needed to hurry, and I didn't want to leave Draco here during a full moon without one of us nearby."

"So, it wasn't because we were having a… disagreement?" Severus asked.

"What?"

"I thought perhaps…" Severus sighed, setting his tea down on the table beside him, his dark eyes focused passed Lucius. "I knew we hadn't been seeing eye to eye on a few things. I thought perhaps you were...upset with me disagree with you. And if this is how it's going to be when I don't just agree-."

"Severus, that's ridiculous," Lucius snapped, and Severus turned to stare at him, dark eyes wide and annoyed, as if he was never ridiculous. Which was absurd, because he was being ridiculous right then. "That wasn't it at all."

"No?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh," Lucius answered, and Severus eyes took him in for another minute, studying him, and he must have determined Lucius wasn't lying, because he relaxed, his lips twitching, eyes softening.

"Oh."

"Really, Severus," Lucius told him, stepping closer, his teacup clattering as he set it down. "If I'd have wanted someone who always agreed with me, I wouldn't have chased you for so long," and Severus' gaze flicked up, rolling his eyes as he leaned against the table behind him. Lucius stepped forward, licking his lips as Severus half turned toward him, and-

They both jumped when the knock sounded on the door, one loud bang, followed by another loud bang. Lucius looked at Severus, who was frowning, looking somewhere between perplexed and annoyed.

"Harry?" Lucius asked.

"Harry doesn't knock like that," he answered. "Besides, he would have just come in."

"Maybe he heard our voices," Lucius argued, and Severus gave him a long look that told him how unlikely that was.

"Headmaster Snape," the voice called out, and Severus immediately stiffened. "I know you're in there, and I have something very important to speak you about."

"Nott?" Lucius said, blinking over at the door. "What is he doing here?" Instead of answering, Severus brushed past him, throwing the door open with a dramatic brush of his robes.

"Mr. Nott," Severus scowled. "As I'm sure you're aware, the professor's private quarters are not available to students, now if you would please-,"

"But this is very important," Nott interrupted, smiling blandly before stepping into the room. He almost immediately caught sight of Lucius, his smile widening as he did. "Professor Malfoy. I suppose it's fitting you're here."

"And why is that?" Lucius answered, eyes narrowing. Nott just continued smiling as he turned back to Severus.

"I thought about what you said."

"Is that so?" Severus answered.

"About how I hadn't thought my plan through," Nott continued. "And I wanted you to know, I have now. And if you don't do exactly what I want, I could do a lot worse than just expose some werewolf."

"That Werewolf is my  _son_ ," Lucius snapped, his hands tight around his cane, and Nott was opening his mouth, his smile smug and bright, but Severus was talking before either of them could say anything more.

"And what is it you want?" he asked; Nott blinked over at him, looking shocked, as if he hadn't expected Severus to give in. After a minute, he managed to compose himself, but it was too late. Lucius was already studying Nott suspiciously, watching as Severus did the same.

"I want you to turn Harry Potter over to the Dark Lord."

"Well," Severus raised an eyebrow. "If that's all, you can go."

"What?" Nott answered.

"We're not doing it," Lucius repeated. "Get out."

"But…" Nott gaped at them. "You can't just."

"We just did."

"You…" Nott glared first at Lucius then Severus, as if he was expecting Severus to tell him something different. "You'll regret this," he warned, and then he was storming out, slamming the door shut behind him as he went, as any typical teenager would. Severus sighed, wandering over to sit in one of his dull grey colored armchairs. Lucius needed to remind him to buy better furniture again.

"What do you think he'll do?" Lucius asked, following him to perch himself on the arm of Severus' chair, leaning his cane along the leg.

"I'm not sure he  _can_ do anything," Severus answered, one hand coming up to brush across Lucius' thigh. He looked thoughtful, brows pulled low over his eyes, greasy hair hanging over his face. It was really time Lucius got him into a shower. Honestly.

"What do you mean?"

"Doesn't it all seem a little… odd?" Severus said. "Nott hardly seems as if he knows what he's doing and yet…"

"You think someone else is behind this?" Lucius asked, raising an eyebrow. "That someone else was behind Draco's secret being released?"

"He just seems frantic. As if he's trying to prove himself to  _someone_."

"It could just be Voldemort he's trying to prove himself to," Lucius answered, one finger tracing down Severus' hand that was still resting along his thigh.

"True," Severus said. "But then why expose Draco? Where does that get him? For that matter, why expose himself? We know he's a Death Eater now, and we know the Dark Lord wants Harry. I'd hardly say he's doing a wonderful job at impressing anyone."

"I…" Lucius paused. "Maybe he just hasn't thought it all out. He is still young."

"Maybe," Severus conceded, sighing deeply, though Lucius could tell he was nowhere near convinced.

* * *

Draco was already seated as Harry sank down in the bath with a hesitancy that was more fitting to fighting dragons than taking a bath with his boyfriend. His body was tense, the water swaying as he shifted, and Draco had to check his sigh. This was supposed to be relaxing. He'd been half-joking when he'd suggested taking a bath together, expecting Harry to look at him as if he was crazy and just walk away. Instead he had gotten Harry looking at him expectantly as he stripped on his way to the bathroom.

"Relax," Draco muttered, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and pulling him against his chest. Instead of relaxing, Harry squirmed against him, his legs wrapping against Draco's in the warm water.

"I am relaxed," he snapped.

"I think there are people in Severus' potions class who are more relaxed than you," Draco told him.

"Whatever," Harry muttered, though he finally relaxed against him. A minuscule amount, enough to lean his head back on Draco's shoulder, his back flush with Draco's chest, his green eyes horribly bright without his glasses as he looked up at Draco.

"You know we'll have to talk about it eventually," Draco said, his voice a whisper of a breath against Harry's hair. He hated himself for bringing it up, for saying anything, especially with Harry so relaxed against him. But he couldn't keep ignoring what was right in front of them. He couldn't keep turning his face away from the reason Harry was so tense, so afraid to be touched.

"Talk about what?" Harry answered, his voice wary, body already tensing, though he stayed pushed up against Draco.

"You know what, Harry," Draco answered, one hand brushing down Harry's side, then back up. Harry shivered against him, relaxing as he nuzzled his face into the crook of Draco's neck.

"Why?" he asked. "It's in the past. Let it stay there."

"You still have nightmares," Draco answered, and it wasn't a question. He knew Harry did, knew from the bags under his eyes, from the way he didn't like to sleep. "It still affects you. That makes it not in the past."

"Why does it matter?" Harry asked, his breath blowing across Draco's neck, onto his chest as he looked up. His eyes were open, vulnerable, uncertain, and Draco understood the desire to leave it all in the past. He did, but that didn't make it healthy.

"Because you shouldn't have to spend your whole life afraid," Draco told him, brushing a stray piece of hair out of his face.

"I'm not afraid of you," Harry answered, and looking at him then, with his green eyes shining, relaxed and pliant on top of Draco, it was easy to know he wasn't lying.

And it broke Draco's heart that somewhere along the way that had become acceptable to Harry. It had become acceptable to hold everyone at arm's length for fear of what they would do, to distrust the world and tell himself he didn't deserve to be touched, that he couldn't touch in return. It wasn't that he didn't love that Harry trusted him, that he could draw these reactions from him, it was just that he hated how Harry had convinced himself it was fine to be afraid of affection, and it was only worse because he seemed to have no idea how much he deserved it all.

"I know," Draco murmured, clutching Harry closer to him, cradling him to his chest and tucking his head under his chin. And it was a long time before either of them spoke again. Long enough that he thought Harry had dropped the subject. Long enough that the bath water started growing cold around them, and Draco was about to suggest getting out and rinsing off. But then Harry was speaking, his voice soft in the still air of the bathroom.

"He only touched me a couple times," he said, and Draco blinked once. He had to consciously tell himself not to react, not to moved. He could feel the anger, the protective, possessive energy coiling through him, but he knew reacting violently wouldn't be the way to get Harry to open up. He forced himself to stay still, stay relaxed as he warred with the convoluted idea of the words 'touched me' and 'only… a couple times' as if they somehow canceled each other out.

"It wasn't even the pain that was the worst part," Harry continued, and he didn't move against Draco, didn't even shift as if he was uncomfortable talking about his rape. "It was the feeling of…" he trailed off, his words getting lost, and Draco was opening his mouth, having no idea what he would say but knowing he should say something, anything, except Harry was already speaking again, talking into the air as if Draco wasn't even there anymore. "They all hit me. Vernon, Petunia, Dudley. They all did their best to make sure I knew I didn't matter, but that was the first time I actually  _felt_  like it was true," he let out a dry chuckle, bitter, hard, too old a sound.

"Then the school turned on me for nothing; Lupin lied to me when I thought I could trust him; Cedric died, and Voldemort-," he cut himself off abruptly, and Draco tightened his arms around him. Harry sighed against him, sounding tense and tired and stressed. "You know, I don't even dream about it anymore. Vernon, I mean. I dream about this emptiness. This feeling of…" he let out a long breath, pausing for a long second before he was talking again. "That's why I helped you. When you first turned. Because I understood how you felt. Scared, angry… alone. I let Severus believe I was using you, but…" he trailed off again, and this time there was a finality of his words that Draco was quick to understand.

Harry was done talking. Topic closed. Maybe for the day. Maybe forever. Draco let it sit for a long minute, debating how to answer. He could tell from the way he'd talked at him instead of to him, that Harry didn't want an answer, if he even wanted an acknowledgement. But Draco couldn't just leave it without saying something to let him know it was alright, that he still had Draco.

"I love you," Draco whispered, his breath moving Harry's hair against his scalp, and Harry relaxed, tension leaving that Draco hadn't even realized was there. He brushed his hand against Draco's shoulder, feather light before slipping out of his arms, standing and stepping out of the bath, water dripping off him and onto the tiles below. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around himself as if Draco hadn't seen him naked as he walked toward the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob, the door half open, not bothering to turn and look back.

"You're everything to me," he said, and then he slipped out of the bathroom, the door sliding shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. You're all the most bestest!


	21. Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts receives an unwelcome visitor.

"We should get lunch," Draco said as they stepped out of the Potions classroom. Harry threw him a strange surprised look before his eyes focused back on the students all around them, the ones who were heading toward the Great Hall.

"It's lunch time?" he asked finally. Draco tried to check his sigh. As wonderful as yesterday had been, he couldn't let himself forget that Harry had other problems. Problems like not eating and not sleeping. Though admittedly, he seemed to have slept fine last night.

"I suppose, we both have a free period next," Draco told him. "We could go later if you’re not hungry."

"Hmm," Harry muttered, and Draco chose that to mean, 'we'll go later' not, 'I don't care.' He reached down, wrapping his fingers around Harry's. Harry jerked once before relaxing into the touch. It was the first time they'd touched since they'd gotten up that morning, Harry nearly throwing Draco out of his bed as he yelled that it was time for class.

Though Draco was fairly certain that Harry had never cared about being late before.

He had been half-afraid that Harry regretted what had happened, but then he'd caught a glimpse of Harry's morning wood right before he'd shut the bathroom door in Draco's face, and it had all made sense. Not that he was particularly happy about his boyfriend's reaction to waking up with him, but at least he could understand it.

Harry stopped abruptly, yanking Draco to a stop with him through their hands. He was staring ahead, his dark green eyes hard. Draco followed his gaze to find Hermione Granger standing in front of them, blocking a good part of the corridor. It almost looked as if she was waiting for them. She took a step forward, her eyes firmly locked on Harry— _definitely_ waiting for them then.

"What do you want?" Draco snapped, and her eyes swiveled around to face him.

"I…" she blinked once before turning back to Harry, as if  _he_ wanted to talk to her any more than Draco did. "I want to talk to Harry."

"I don't want to talk to you," Harry answered, calm, practical, not even sounding annoyed as he raised his eyebrow.

"Please, just-," she tried again, stepping even closer. And Harry stepped away, disgust and horror flashing across his mask, and Draco had never been sure how much of the disgust was for himself. And he didn't want to think about. He didn't need this—Harry didn't need this—not because of Granger.

"Stay away from us," Draco told her.

"I just wanted to apologize," she said, her voice loud and determined, and Draco felt Harry freeze against him in surprise.

"Nice try," Draco answered.

"I'm serious," she snapped, looking annoyed now. And then she was turning away from him, looking straight at Harry, her expression softening into something that Draco would have thought was sincere if he didn't know better. "What Ron and Nott did was wrong. I… I never would have agreed if I'd known."

"And what about Ginny?" Harry asked, his expression unreadable, and Draco really wasn't sure if he was taking her seriously or not.

"I-I'm sorry about that too," she stuttered. "I should never have gotten her involved."

"Okay," Harry said.

"What?" Draco snapped, turning toward him, half-convinced he'd lost his mind. Even Granger was staring at him with a shocked expression, and it was clear that she hadn't expected him to agree so easily or maybe at all.

"You forgive me?" she asked.

"I didn't say that," Harry told her. "I'm accepting your apology, not forgiving you," he blinked at her, slow, his dark green eyes cold on her face. "I get what was going on in your head when you did all that, but that doesn't mean I like it," he paused, and Draco could tell by the look in his eyes what was coming next. "Or you."

"But-."

"We're not friends. I'm not sure we ever were, and we're never going to be."

"What're you-?"

"You were never there for me. You never asked me if I was alright. You chose to believe in a version of me that suited you, and even when everything about me didn't fit that version that you'd made, you still convinced yourself he existed. That's not friendship. I'm not even sure what that is."

"Harry-."

"So, I'd prefer if you'd just leave me alone from now on," he said, and Granger was opening her mouth to argue, but Harry was already walking away, tugging Draco with him by his hand. And Draco knew the sense of satisfaction he felt was probably wrong, but he couldn't exactly help it.

"She deserved that," he said once Granger was out of sight.

"I'm glad she came and found me," Harry answered.

"Why?"

"I've never been able to tell her exactly how I felt before," he said, his hand squeezing tightly around Draco's. "It was… interesting to finally get the closure."

Draco figured by interesting he meant  _nice_ , but he was hardly going to correct Harry.

* * *

Severus was sitting behind his desk when his Floo lit up. And it wasn't that he expected there to be no consequences from Harry breaking someone out of Azkaban and then stealing from Gringotts, he just thought he would have more time. Though, he supposed it _had_ been three days. Three days, and he still didn't have any idea what to do when Dolores Umbridge stepped through his Floo, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

"Headmaster Snape," she said, and he was sure he didn't imagine the way her voice twisted mockingly over his title. She smiled widely at him, ever reminiscent of a toad as she stepped up to his desk. "I'll be needing to see Harry Potter, Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood, and Lucius Malfoy, if it's all the same to you."

Of course, it wasn't all the same to him, but he could hardly  _say_ that to her. He was just surprised Scrimgeour had sent her instead of coming himself, though maybe he was still too busy finding ways to kick Severus out after Draco's secret had been revealed.

"Of course," he said, not bothering to hide his sneer. He flicked his wand easily, watching as his Patronus took off in search of Lucius; he hoped Lucius had thought further ahead than he had.

Harry was the first to arrive, shoving the door open with an unreadable expression on his face, and Severus was half surprised Draco wasn't with him.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, her smile widening when she saw him. Harry just stared at her for a long minute before moving to sit in front of Severus' desk, sprawling out to hook his left leg over the arm rest, his face a picture of boredom.

Lovegood was next, wandering into the room with a strange pair of glasses Severus didn't bother trying to identify. The girl ignored Umbridge completely as she went to sit by Harry, giving him a cool greeting that he returned, much to Severus' surprise.

Zabini followed soon after with Lucius directly on his heels. He stood awkwardly—all the chairs taken—before moving to the opposite side of the room than Umbridge. Lucius shut the door softly behind him, his eyes locking on Severus' for half a second before he was turning to Umbridge.

"Dolores," Lucius murmured, his right hand tight around his cane. She smiled at him as if she was a high school girl.

"Lucius."

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" he asked, and Harry let out a low snort that had Umbridge glaring in his direction.

"I'm afraid this is all business, Lucius," she answered. "These three students were seen breaking into not only Gringotts but Azkaban as well. And you've been implicated the crime as well."

"Oh, dear," Lucius said, his voice quiet, and if Severus didn't know him half as well as he did, he wouldn't have known he was faking. "That is a serious accusation."

"We're very sure," Umbridge answered, blinking at him, and she twisted her body around to face Severus, obviously about to confront him as well. But then Harry was sitting straight up, letting out a strangled sound as he stared at her.

"Mr. Potter?" Umbridge said, sounding exasperated, but Harry just kept staring at her, his eyes fixed on a point below her face but above her chest. Severus followed his gaze, noticing a strange hexagon shaped locked resting against her short throat. It was an odd faint green and yellowish color with something carved into the center that he couldn't make out.

"Is that Salazar Slytherin's Locket?" Harry asked, his voice faint as he kept staring at Umbridge.

"What?" she blinked before looking down at herself. She raised one chubby hand, her fingers playing along the locket's chain before releasing it. "Of course, not. It’s-."

" _Stupefy!"_ Severus almost jumped at the blast of red light that came from Blaise Zabini's wand. Umbridge stiffened, before falling to the ground in a crumbled heap.

"What are you doing?" Severus snapped, turning to Zabini, who was just lowering his wand, eyeing the room of people who were now staring at him with wide eyes.

"What?" he asked. "Everyone was thinking it. Besides, we need the necklace, don't we?"

"We do," Harry answered, and Severus felt like smacking him for encouraging Zabini.

"It is one of the Horcruxes, Harry?" Lovegood asked; she was standing beside him now, staring down at Umbridge as Harry pulled the locket away from her, holding it at arm's length as if he was afraid it would infect him.

"You told them about Horcruxes?" Lucius asked, and he sounded more surprised than angry. Because, of course,  _Harry_ had told Lovegood and Zabini about Horcruxes. Harry, the only thirteen-year-old who couldn't be relied on to tell Severus when he was hungry, was suddenly an oversharer.

"They guessed," Harry answered, his eyes flicking to Severus as if he could sense he was upset. Severus let out a breath, moving closer to pull the locket out of Harry's fingers. To his surprise Harry didn't move away from him, made no attempt to avoid touching him. It was… strange. Strange enough to send a blast of warmth through Severus' stomach when he brushed his fingers against Harry's shoulder, and Harry still didn't move away, only looked up at him with unreadable green eyes.

"How did you know the locket was a Horcrux?" Lucius asked.

"I'd seen it before," Harry answered. "It was in one of the memories Dumbledore showed me before he died. One of the founding artifacts that Tom Riddle stole."

"The same way you recognized Hufflepuff's cup in Bellatrix's vault?" Lovegood asked, and Harry nodded slowly.

"Not that this isn't fascinating," Zabini said, stepping up, and toeing Umbridge's stunned form. "But we are going to have to deal with her."

"We can modify her memories," Lucius said.

"Or we could just feed her to the lake monster," Harry grumbled, sitting heavily back in the chair by Severus' desk.

"There's a lake monster?" Lovegood asked, tilting her head as if she was taking him seriously.

"I've no idea," Harry answered. "But it seems like a good idea to me."

"We'll have to do a good job on her memories," Severus said, ignoring both Harry and Lovegood completely. "She said they were pretty sure they knew who'd broken into Azkaban and Gringotts. They must have proof."

"We'll have to think of a reason they were there," Lucius said. "Make them innocent."

"What if Bellatrix was controlling us?" Zabini answered, and both Severus and Lucius look over at him. "That would explain why we were getting into her vault. I mean, it's going to be a lot more believable that a Death Eater  _imperioed us_ than Hogwarts students  _imperioed_ a Death Eater. And I've used my wand since then, so they can't check it."

"But why would we have still gotten into her vault even after she was dead?" Lucius shook her head, looking unconvinced. "And why go to Azkaban in the first place."

"Maybe it wasn't Bellatrix who  _imperioed_ them?" Severus answered, warming to the idea. "They could have encountered a Death Eater while in Hogsmeade, and  _he_ was the one who send them off to Bellatrix's vault."

"But that still leaves you as taking poor care of your students," Lucius answered.

"Except, you actually did suspect something was going on," Harry spoke unexpectedly. "That's why Lucius was there." Lucius stared at him for a long minute, his grey eyes darting to the ceiling and back down, obviously trying to think of some way out of the situation.

Except, he couldn't.

"Fine," he muttered finally. "But you'll have to do it, Severus. You're the best at this kind of thing."

"I'm going to find Draco," Harry announced, standing abruptly. His eyes flicked toward Umbridge once, and then he was gone. Severus couldn't blame him; Harry had always despised memory charms, Legilimancy and the  _imperio._ He'd never explained why, though Severus could guess it had something to do with the invasion of privacy and the lack of control that the spell forced on the recipient.

"Alright," Severus muttered, stepping toward Umbridge while drawing his wand.

* * *

Harry watched the locket disappear into the poison, its scream echoing in his ears before dying out. They'd sent Umbridge back to the Ministry a little less than an hour ago with Severus assuring them he'd seen no flaw in her memories that would expose them. Harry supposed only time would tell if that was actually true or not.

Draco's hand brushed his once, twice before taking hold and squeezing. Harry could feel Severus watching him out of the corner of his eye. He knew he was surprised; he knew he had questions. Harry didn't know how many he could answer.

"Alright," Lucius said, tapping his cane on the floor once, casting his gaze over Luna and Zabini. "It's dinner time, and I've no interest in watching this bubble any longer."

Luna blinked at him before shrugging and heading for the door. Zabini looked first at Lucius, then Severus, then Draco and Harry as if sure he was about to miss something if he left. He furrowed his eyebrows, opening his mouth to argue. Harry didn't know why they'd even let him stay, except that he'd already sort of known what was going on, and really, Zabini had a way of worming himself into situations that he wanted to be in.

"But-," he started.

"Get out, Blaise," Draco told him, and Zabini glared at him for a long minute before he turned on his heel and followed Luna and Lucius out the door.

Draco squeezed Harry's hand again, his eyes flicking toward Severus before returning to him, and Harry knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"I could stay?" he offered, though Harry wasn't sure if he was offering for Harry's benefit or his own. Either way, Harry didn't need him for this. He wasn't afraid of Severus.

"No," Harry told him, and Draco nodded, letting his hand go and slipping out the door after Lucius. Harry paced forward, throwing himself down into a chair and feeling Severus' eyes on him all the while.

"You and Draco seem close," Severus said.

"He told me he loved me," Harry answered, the words falling from his mouth before he could really stop them. Severus raised an eyebrow, and Harry couldn't exactly blame him. It wasn't as if he'd ever been one for sharing. But he wanted to tell someone. He wanted someone to tell him it was alright to say it back. That it was alright to mean it.

"Did he?"

"No," Harry scowled at the wall. "I was just saying that."

"And what did you say?" Severus asked, sitting in the chair across from him and ignoring his sarcasm.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" Severus deadpanned, staring at him as if Harry had lost his mind. Harry sneered back.

"What does it matter?"

"It matters if you didn't say it back," Severus told him.

"I told the truth."

"And is that what you wanted to say?" Severus asked, and Harry turned his face away, because he hadn't thought to ask himself that. And the truth was that it hadn't been what he wanted to say. But it had been what he was capable of saying.

"You're still not eating," Severus told him, as if this was news.

"I'm not hungry."

"You're still having nightmares," he said, and it wasn't a question.

"I…" Harry's eyes flicked to him and away again. "Not as much." Severus raised an eyebrow at him, slow, disbelieving. But it was true. The nightmares were off and on now instead of every night. Especially, since he'd talked to Draco about what had happened to him, it was as if he was less afraid of the dark. Not _not_ afraid—just less afraid.

It had been a startling realization.

"He's good for you," Severus said, his lips pressed in a line as if it was hard for him to say. And Harry could only stare at him. "Draco," Severus said, gesturing with one hand. "He's good for you."

"I- um," Harry answered; he had no idea how to respond to that. No idea how to respond to heat that lit up his cheeks or the warmth that swam in the pit of his stomach. "Ok."

* * *

“Oh, Blaise,” Draco hesitated as Severus’ portrait closed behind him. His father glanced back, his blonde hair swinging before he continued on his way. “Do you need something, Blaise?” he asked, and Blaise smiled thinly at him, his dark eyes full of something too close to jealousy and pain.

And Draco suddenly remembered what exactly Harry had said about Blaise being in love with him. He wondered how long that had been true, how long he hadn’t known. Hadn’t wanted to know.

“Look, Draco,” Blaise said, his dark eyes locked on Draco’s. “I just wanted to say that I’ll help however I can. And as much as I didn’t like Potter before, I think I get it now.”

“You do?” Draco blinked.

“Yeah,” Blaise sighed, rolling his eyes as if he’d been put upon. “Almost dying with someone tends to do that. I’m not going to pretend to agree with everything the guy does, but I’m,” he swallowed, his adams-apple bobbing as he did. “I glad you’re happy.”

Then he was turning, walking down the hallway and leaving Draco staring after him. Though Draco didn’t miss the unspoken, ‘even if I’m not’ about his speech.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, we're almost to the end everyone! Thanks so much for your awesome comments and kudos!


	22. The Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts is attacked.

Harry was laying across his bed, one foot on his floor, the other bent at the knee when his portrait sprang open, and Draco walked in. Harry hadn't even known he was missing him until he was there, coming over and sitting on the bed by Harry's hips. As he looked up into Draco's silver-grey eyes, he couldn't help remembering Severus' words, his questions.

"You never came to dinner," Draco told him, and Harry sat up, pushing himself back so he had enough space.

"There's only one Horcrux left," Harry told him. "Probably Nagini; his snake."

"I know," Draco answered, raising one eyebrow at the subject change. "We'll figure it out."

"Voldemort will make his move soon," Harry said.

"What are you trying to say, Harry?" Draco asked, and Harry just shook his head. He didn't know how to say it, didn't know how Draco would react. Didn't know how to tell Draco that he didn't know how much time they had left. That he wasn't sure they could come out the other side intact. He still wasn't sure he was hoping he'd come out alive.

"Harry," Draco's voice was low, dangerously soft, and Harry could tell by the look in his eyes that he was following his train of thought almost exactly. The difference was, if the burning fire in Draco's eyes was anything to go by, he obviously didn't agree. "You can't just give up."

"I never said I was giving up."

"You didn't have to," Draco answered, and there was no mistaking the anger in his voice.

"Draco," Harry sighed. "I can't keep fighting my whole life-."

"No one's asking you to-."

 _"Everyone_  is asking me to!" Harry snapped, his right hand clutching the bedsheet as he drew his legs up under himself. "Everyone is looking at me and expecting  _something_ , and I'm so sick of it," and Harry was so tired; he hadn't been ready to have this conversation; he hadn't even wanted to think about this conversation. "Aren't I allowed to just…"

Because the truth was that Draco had no idea how hard it was for Harry to breathe. He had no idea how much the idea of living terrified Harry, and Harry had no idea how to begin to tell him.

"I don't think you realize what you dying would do to me," Draco muttered.

"You'd be fine-," Harry started to argue, but Draco was already talking over him.

"I wouldn't!" Draco snapped. "I wouldn't. I wouldn't even know what to do with myself anymore," he said, his silver-grey eyes hard on Harry's face, and Harry really didn't know how to argue. He should; he should have been, but he didn't know  _how._  "You have no idea, do you?" Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Draco…" Harry murmured.

"Harry, you're my mate," Draco told him, his voice trembling slightly, watching Harry as if waiting for him to continue protesting. "There  _is_ no one else for me."

"But-."

"There are no buts, Harry," Draco snapped. "There aren't."

"I…." Harry trailed off. It explained so much. It explained everything. The way Draco was so protective of him; the way Draco seemed to care, even when he had no reason to; the way- "That's why you're with me," Harry muttered, feeling cold, numb, so tired.

"What?" Draco blinked, looking somewhere between confused and hurt. "Why would you say that?"

"Why else would you stay with me?" Harry asked, and Draco eyes flashed at him, confusion turning to anger.

"Merlin, Harry. I've stayed with you because I'm in love with you-."

"You can't-," Harry argued, his heart beating fast and hard and the words shouldn't have had such an effect on him.

"Even though you're idiotic and frustrating and unbelievable-."

"That makes me feel better-."

"You're also so strong; You're beautiful and smart, and you make me see the world differently," Draco insisted, his silver-grey eyes intense. "And I love you," and it was suddenly very hard for Harry to care whether they were together because they were mated or not. It wasn't like it was going away any time soon.

He moved forward, his hands placed carefully along Draco's shoulders as he moved forward, lining his lips up easily. Draco kissed him, his lips moving in tandem with Harry's. And it felt good. He could stay here forever, stay in that moment forever.

He didn't particularly want to go further, but he didn't want to never go past what they'd done so far. And he wasn't sure they'd ever have the chance again.

"I want to have-," he hesitated, pulling his lips away as Draco turned to look at him. "Will you-."

"Harry," Draco answered, running a soothing hand down his arm.

"Can we have sex?" Harry said, the words coming out in a tumble, and Draco stared at him for a long minute before answering.

"No one's dying, Harry," Draco insisted, as if saying it could make it true.

"Alright," he answered.

"We don't have to rush," Draco emphasized.

"I know," Harry said, and Draco bit his lips, and it was obvious by his face that he wasn't sure they should, but Harry didn't want to die regretting that nothing more had happened between them. He moved forward, his hands on Draco's robes and his mouth on Draco's.

* * *

Blaise sighed; the corridor was quiet and dark as he walked. The portrait to his right grumbled, and he pointed his wand away, the bright light from his _lumos_ titling away from the man's eyes. He should have been sleeping; he had been, but he couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened the day before.

He couldn't believe Voldemort had attached his soul to items to stop himself from dying. In light of that, all his problems with Draco and Potter seemed unimportant. He sighed again. It was no wonder Potter acted like, well, an _arse_. He still didn't exactly see what Draco saw in him, but he supposed it wasn't his place to approve.

After the incident in the Forbidden Forest everything between Granger, Weasley, and him had just sort of dissolved. He knew Weasley was still angry, but he'd also seen Granger apologize to Potter. He figured whatever their plans had been were done now, and if they could let go, he should to.

"Blaise?" he stopped suddenly, Luna's voice echoing down the corridor as she stopped in front of him. She was just inside the line of his light, her blonde hair flashing.

"I… What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I was getting a late-night snack," she said, smiling over at him.

"Do you always get food late at night?" he answered.

"No, I was just too distracted to eat much at dinner last night," she said, and he could relate to that.

"Oh," he answered, waiting a minute for her to ask him what he was doing, but she didn't. "Mind if I come with you?"

"No," her smile widened as she started walking. Blaise followed behind her, lowering his wand and letting the light dim as they walked.

* * *

They were naked on the bed, only their pants still on as Draco's body barely touched Harry's. He kissed along his neck, his chest, his stomach before coming back up again. Somehow, even though Draco was on top of him, he was hovering in a way that made Harry not feel crushed, confined.

The sensation of Draco's lips felt amazing against his skin, making him feel sensitive and whole, and he could almost forget what he'd asked. He knew it was Draco's intention to distract him, and he was half-tempted to just let it work.

"Draco," he whispered, clutching at the sheets when Draco reached the waistline of his pants, and there was a sigh against his stomach.

* * *

"Why are we looking for Lupin again?" Lucius asked, following behind Severus even as they stopped by Lupin's private quarters. Severus had never been to Lupin's private rooms, neither of them had. Honestly, Severus had no desire to see the inside at all.

"He might know what's going on with Nott," Severus answered, though even he didn't really know what he was looking for. He just knew there was something going on, something he was missing. He didn't know why he wanted to confront Lupin—it had just been the look in Lupin's eyes when he'd found out what they were doing.

Something that was there but not quite there. Something he'd learned to spot in all his years of spying.

"Why would he know something like that?" Lucius sighed, standing to the side as Severus knocked on Lupin's door for the second time. They waited another couple of minutes before Severus pulled out his wand.

" _Alohamora,_ " he muttered, pushing the now unlocked door opened.

"Severus," Lucius asked, following him into the room, though he could hear the suspicion in his voice now. "What's going on?"

Severus ignored him. The room was almost spotless as they went in, no books lying around and no monsters in the corners, and Severus found it immensely different from how he remembered Lupin keeping his space even a few years ago. He moved toward the bathroom, stepping inside to find it just as clean, the door to the bedroom wide open. It was obvious Lupin wasn't here.

"Severus," Lucius called, his voice pitched low with concern and dread. "Come look at this."

Severus stepped out of the bathroom, leaving everything the way he'd found it as he moved back to where Lucius was standing. Lucius looked over at him with his grey eyes wide, his hand held out, one hand tight around his cane, and Severus took a second to realize what exactly he was looking at.

He looked down at the locket in Lucius' palm. The Horcrux they had destroyed.

"I don't…" he whispered, taking the locket out of Lucius' grip. "How could he have this?"

"He knew about the poison," Lucius answered, his eyes still hard on Severus'. "He knew we would be using it again."

"He would have had access to it," Severus said, following Lucius' thought process easily. "We didn't exactly lock it up."

"There's only one way to find out," Lucius muttered, and he was already heading out the door, Severus sweeping out behind him. He didn't bother to close the door behind them.

* * *

Harry was laid out on the bed under Draco, his green eyes apprehensive as he looked up, and Draco had no idea what he was trying to prove, but it was obvious by the look in his eyes that he wasn't about to give up just yet. They were both completely naked, but it was easy to tell by the look in Harry's eyes that it wasn't making him feel better.

"Harry," he said, his hands skimming across Harry arse, feeling as Harry tensed under him. "You don't have to bottom."

"No," Harry said, biting his lip. "I want to… I want to know what it's supposed to feel like." Draco also suspected it had a lot to do with Harry being unsure of shoving his cock inside of Draco. Of Harry still being partway convinced that what they were doing was somehow wrong.

"Alright," Draco muttered, holding back the hundred protests he could feel on his tongue. He flicked his wand, his hand suddenly full of lube, and he didn't miss the way Harry was watching him as if he was about to be murdered. Draco skimmed across his hole once, twice, three times, watching as Harry clutched at the sheets, his teeth clamping down, and his once hard cock was almost completely soft now. He was entirely too tense for Draco to be doing this without hurting him.

"You need to relax," Draco said.

"I-," Harry broke off, his voice a strangled gasp. "I can’t..."

Draco pulled his fingers away, setting his hands firmly on Harry's hips. Harry brought his hands up, covering his face, and it didn't take a genius to know this wasn't going to happen.

"Harry," Draco whispered, stroking his fingers easily down Harry's sides. "Not everyone likes penetrative sex. It doesn't mean anything."

"It means I'm weak," he whispered against his hands. "It means-."

"It doesn't," Draco soothed.

"I wanted this to matter."

"It does," Draco said, holding in his sigh. He lay down beside Harry, pressing his face into Harry's neck and kissing him. Harry relaxed into the touch, pressing into Draco, sighing out.

"I want you," Harry said.

"I know," Draco answered.

* * *

Blaise froze when the sirens started up, echoing down the corridor around them and shrieking into his ears. Luna turned toward him with her bright blue eyes wide.

"What  _is_ that?" Blaise asked.

"I've heard it before. At the beginning of the year. When Voldemort was here," Luna said, and Blaise widened his eyes at her, dread shooting through him at the very idea of Voldemort attacking Hogwarts again. Apparently, they had barely held him off last time.

"What do we-."

"What is that?" Luna interrupted, her eyes widening even further. She was looking past him, and when he turned, there was a dark brown mist starting to creep down the corridor toward them, slinking under the doors as it went. Blaise felt panic welling up inside him as he took a sharp step back, almost running straight into Luna.

"We need to go," he said; the mist was a little too close to them. He could already feel it starting to crawl into his throat as he breathed in.

"You know what it is?" she answered.

"I have an idea," he said before he grabbed her hand and yanked her down the hallway, the mist hard on their heels.

* * *

Draco was kissing along his neck again, and Harry could already feel his cock beginning to take an interest again. He brought his hand up, cupping Draco's face as their lips met. And Draco twisted around, his hips colliding with Harry's, and they gasped when they lined up.

Harry felt Draco moving against him, one hand reaching up, his fingers tangling with Harry's while his other hand traced down Harry's chest, down to his stomach and wrapping around their cocks. Harry grabbed them soon after, remembering how Draco had guided him last time.

And this—this felt _right_. Where before he had been nothing but panicked and on the edge of repulsed, now he could only think of Draco, of Draco and his hands, and the way he tugged just right, moving down to circle Harry's balls, and Harry cried out as he came, his hand tightening around them and barely noticing as Draco came soon after.

* * *

They stood in front of the cauldron of poison, watching it bubble. It didn't look affected. It looked the exact same as when they'd finished it. As when they'd left it. There was no visible evidence that it had been tampered with.

"How would he even do it?" Lucius asked, feeling frustrated and wondering vaguely if they'd just run a wild goose chase. Severus just kept staring down at the cauldron, his hand tight around the locket in his hand. "We heard the Horcrux being destroyed," he said, and Severus' eyes snapped up to his as if something had occurred to him.

Severus turned, reached over to the shelf and plucking down a random leaf. It was one of the testing samples they had laid out for when a poison needed testing. They'd used the same leaf when the poison in front of them had been ready. Lucius watched Severus as he held the leaf above the poison for half a second before dropping it in.

Lucius flinched as the screech filled the room. The same screech he'd heard when the Horcrux had been destroyed. Except, it hadn't been destroyed. Severus drew his wand, flicking it toward the cauldron, and the sound stopped abruptly.

"He cast a charm on it," Severus said, his fingers so tight around the locket, his hand was turning white.

"How did we not catch this?" Lucius asked, and Severus just shook his head.

"We need to find him," he said, and Lucius followed him out of the room. He had no idea what part Lupin was really playing, but he knew they needed to find out. He knew-

They both stopped abruptly as the sirens that signaled intruders around the castle sounded. Severus looked back at him, his whole-body tensing, and he was running, throwing the door open, only to find about a foot of water along the floor of the corridor.

* * *

Draco was in the bathroom when the sirens went off. He'd left Harry lounging across the bed, half-asleep as he watched Draco leave. He froze when the sound started, the same horrible pain drilling into his skull as it had last time, but this time Harry wasn't right  _there,_ and the rush of irrational panic that surged through him sent him stumbling to the door.

He walked right into Harry, who had wrenched the door open at the same time as him, his green eyes wide as he stared back at Draco. His hand wrapped around Draco's elbow, his wand flicking out, and the sirens were suddenly muted in Draco's ears, the same way they'd been before. Draco sighed, letting out a breath as he relaxed, and Harry stepped closer, his body still radiating tension.

"What's going on?" Draco asked.

"I've no idea," Harry answered, his hand still tight around Draco's elbow as he tugged him out of the bathroom, across his room, and toward his door.

"You don't know?" Draco answered, and he couldn't help the skeptical tone of his voice. He wasn't used to Harry not knowing something he didn't, to Harry hiding and planning something he didn't include Draco on. It would fit with Harry desperate attempt at sex earlier, as if he wasn't expecting them to have another opportunity.

"No," Harry said, turning his head to glare back at him with those annoyed green eyes. "I don't know."

Draco didn't answer as he pushed his door open and watched as Harry stepped into the corridor. Harry coughed immediately, stepped back and out of the way as Draco looked past him. There was dark smoke wafting down the corridor, the smell of fire and burning portrait paper easily distinguishable. Harry coughed again, his hand sliding off of Draco as he tightened his grip on his wand.

"Fiendfire," he muttered.

"How can you tell?" Draco answered.

"Nothing else would still be burning. There's not enough fuel," Harry answered. It made sense, and Draco was just opening his mouth to respond when they heard footsteps coming from the direction of the fire. Harry tensed as Remus Lupin came around the corner.

"Draco!" Lupin called, stopping in front of them. "Harry!" Harry scowled next to him, staring at Lupin suspiciously even as Draco felt himself relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. I have been asked a couple times now whether there will a third installment. I haven't been planning on writing anything more than a couple short little stories to tie up any lose ends; however, I do wonder if a third installment isn't necessary (and or just wanted)  
> Let me know!


	23. The Traitors of Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Attacker are revealed.

The water was up to their chests now, pressing against Severus' sternum in a way that made it hard to breathe. He looked behind him, back to where Lucius was herding two Slytherin first years, who were crying and panicking, and if anything else had been going on Severus would have snapped at them to keep it together.

As far as he could tell, the entirety of the dungeons and basement were flooded and steadily continuing to fill up. Someone must have lifted the enchantment that stopped the water from the lake from coming into the stone walls of Hogwarts. Severus had a fair idea who it had been.

Still, Theodore Nott couldn't have been working alone. He wouldn't have been able to cast such an elegant charm on the poison, and why would he plant the locket in Lupin's room. Besides, there were still the sirens that were echoing around the castle and signaling intruders.

"Snape?" Pomona Sprout said, sounding frantic, and she too was holding one of her students; the Hufflepuff tucked under her arm and looking frantic. "What's going on?"

He and Lucius had tried to check in on the Slytherin commons, but the door had been sealed tight. It hadn't mattered what password they told it, the door wouldn't budge. From what Sprout told them of the Hufflepuff commons, the same thing was happening there. It was as if someone was trying to keep everyone locked inside the castle.

"Severus," Lucius called. He'd lost his cane somewhere, instead choosing to keep his hands firmly on the Slytherins. The water was too high for them now, and they were having to swim in order to stay above it. "We need to get out of here. The dungeons are too flooded."

"I know," Severus called back. He'd been trying to find the dungeon entrance; the problem was that with the water shoving up against them and pushing them around, it was almost impossible to tell which direction he should have been going.

"We need to find Draco and Harry before Lupin does," Lucius said, and his voice was as high and panicked as Severus had ever heard it.

"Professor Malfoy!" one of the student let out a loud cry, clinging desperately to Lucius' robes even as they shoved against the current. And Lucius was holding them above the current now, his grey eyes steady on Severus' back.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. The water was up to their necks now; if it kept rising like this, he'd have to cast bubblehead charms. He froze in his tracks, turning back to Lucius suddenly.

"The water leads out to the lake," he said.

"What?" Lucius answered.

"If we follow the current-," Severus started to explain.

"-it'll lead us to the lake," Lucius finished, his grey eyes lighting up. "We don't have to find our way out."

"What?" Sprout answered. "We can't just leave our students down here!"

"It's not like we can get to them!" Lucius snapped back. "Maybe from outside the castle we can find a way to reset the charms."

"But the common rooms could already be filling up with water," she argued. "If we leave-."

"And what do you propose we do about it now?" Severus asked. "Bang on the doors until they spontaneously open?"

"We'll just have to make our way back to the castle from the lake," Lucius said, and Sprout pursed her lips.

It wasn't as if Severus enjoyed leaving the students behind, but he didn't have a choice. He tightened his hand on his wand, watching as Lucius did the same, and they were raising them to their faces, casting the bubblehead charm. And Severus hoped desperately no mermaids decided now was a good time to come out and play.

* * *

Harry grabbed Draco's shoulder, wrenching him away even as Lupin got closer. Draco cast him a startled, half-disapproving look but said nothing.

"What are  _you_ doing here?" Harry asked, and Lupin blinked.

"What?"

"Your quarters aren't on this floor," he said.

"No, but I was on patrol," Lupin answered, his voice low, confused. Harry refused to fall for it.

"And you didn't notice someone setting the castle on fire?"

"Harry," Draco sighed, but Harry just talked over him. Something was off. Had Lupin come down here find them? It seemed like the most probable idea, but how had he even known they would be in Harry's room instead of Draco's, and was it really just a coincidence that he was in the exact place the Fiendfire had been set.

Harry was inclined to think no.

"Look, we can talk about this later," Lupin said, looking annoyed and impatient now. "Right now, we need to get out of here." He walked past them, gesturing impatiently for them to follow, his wand clutched tightly in his hand as he did. Draco followed him easily, pausing for only a minute when Harry didn't move.

He looked back down the corridor where Lupin had come. The smoke was still curling thickly, and he could hear the Fiendfire crackling and hissing as it approached. It wasn't like they could go that way. His lips twisted. With Lupin it was.

How convenient.

"What's going on?" Draco asked, his hand wrapped around Harry's as they drew even with Lupin again.

"I…" Lupin hesitated. "I'm not sure. Someone's in the castle. It must be Nott; who else would have set the Fiendfire?" Harry frowned at him while Draco nodded.

"Did you see him?" Draco asked. "And what about the wards? Are there Death Eaters here?"

"I don't know," Lupin answered, turning a corner. Harry froze, watching as Lupin turned right, his wand still a little too tight in his hand. "I don't know anything."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, and Lupin froze in front of him.

"Excuse me?" he asked, turning to face Harry slowly, and Draco was standing between the two of them, looking confused and frustrated.

"Harry!" he sighed. Harry decided it would be easier to just ignore him when he was wrong.

"Severus' office and private rooms are that way," he pointed to the left where the staircase down was already shifting up and over, leading the perfect direction. "Why are you leading us to the entry hall?"

"We're going to the Great Hall," Lupin answered, and Harry was sure he didn't miss the flash of  _something_ in Lupin's eyes. Something feral.

"Why?"

"Because it's procedure."

"And when have you ever cared about procedure," Harry argued. "We should be finding Severus and Lucius right now."

"Harry, now isn't the-," Draco sighed, taking a step closer to Lupin, and it was all the chance Lupin needed. Harry saw it before Draco even realized what was happening, but his warning was cried out too late. He watched helplessly as Lupin seized Draco, yanking him back and pressing his wand against Draco's throat. Harry raised his wand, knowing it was already too late.

"Let him go," Harry said, and even he could hear the desperate croak of his voice. He saw his hand tremble, his wand moving slightly even as he tightened his grip.

“I don’t think so,” Lupin muttered, and Draco was staring at him, silver-grey eyes wide and startled, and Harry couldn't believe he'd let this—of all the things that could have happened—Draco being hurt could not be one of them. "We're going to go pay a little visit to the Dark Lord, I think.”

* * *

The brown mist began to thin as they reached the landing for the stairs. Obviously, it was meant to be contained on the fourth floor. Blaise didn't know why—couldn't think past getting to the stairs and away from the mist that was burning along his skin, mixing with his sweat and getting into his lungs every time he breathed. Luna coughed next to him, running with her fingers wrapped around his, and he didn't know how much longer they could keep going.

They took another three steps; the stairs coming into view as they continued to run. They could make it. He squeezed Luna's hand, putting on a burst of speed. And then someone stepped out from around a corner in front of them, raising a wand, and Blaise didn't hear the spell, but he saw the green light come spiraling toward them. He yanked Luna down with him, and they tumbled to the ground together even as Theodore Nott approached them.

"Well, well," he said, his voice echoing loudly in the entry hall around them.

" _Stupefy!"_ Luna yelled, but she was slow, tired. They were both tired, aching horribly from the mist and running and Nott barely had to try as he raised his wand.

" _Protego_ ," he said, and her spell bounced away from him. "That was just sad, Loony."

"Shut up," Blaise snapped at him.

"Ouch," Nott answered. "Defensive much."

"Let us through," he demanded, desperately trying to keep his voice steady. But he knew it wasn't a worthwhile effort. From the way he was wheezing and half-bent over, he couldn't have been intimidating.

"Uh, no," Nott said, his lips twisting in that mocking way of his. "I don't think so."

"Why are you doing this?" Luna asked.

"I was told to make sure no one went past the fourth floor," Nott shrugged.

"By who?" Blaise asked. "From what I heard, you were running the show, Nott," and he must of struck a nerve, because Nott's lip curled as he stared back at him.

"Shut it, Zabini," Nott snapped. “It’s not my fault the Dark Lord put a mutt in charge of Hogwarts when he could have just asked me!”

“What are you talking about?” Blaise frowned over at him, and Nott scowled.

“Now I’m stuck here while Potter gets delivered to the Dark Lord.”

"How does guarding a corridor get Harry to the Dark Lord?" Luna asked, and she sounded genuinely curious, which really only made the taunt that much better.

"By keeping you lot out of the way!" Nott hissed. "The basement and Dungeons are flooded so no one's coming up from there. Fiendfire on the 1st through 3rd floor to shepherd Potter right where we want him, Mongolian Mist from the fourth floor up to ensure no one's coming down, and all the common rooms are locked, so no one's coming out of those."

"Potter's not just going to walk straight to Voldemort," Blaise rolled his eyes.

"He doesn't have to," Nott answered, his lips twisting bitterly. "Lupin’s taking care of that."

"Lupin?" Luna asked, her eyes widening a touch.

"Yeah, he's a spy. Been one for years; he's going to lead your precious Potter straight to the Dark Lord and no one will ever know."

"We'll know!" Blaise snapped, and Nott's smiled just widened.

"Nope," he answered. "Because I'm going to kill you."

And Blaise barely had time to move as Nott was brandishing his wand, the killing curse curling off his tongue as he did.

* * *

Lucius had lost his robes as they entered the lake, the current dragging on them too much for him to make decent progress. Severus had followed his example soon after, leaving them both in shirts and trousers. Sprout and the three students were still in their pajamas, floating as they made their way through the murky waters of the Black Lake.

Kenny Coleman, one of the few Slytherin's who wasn't a pureblood, was clinging to Lucius, his black hair a mess of curls in the water. He was almost hyperventilating into his bubblehead charm, staring into the water around him as if he expected them to be attack. Lucius certainly hoped that wouldn't be the case.

Severus had hold of the other Slytherin, Beth Kidright, while Sprout was still cradling her Hufflepuff as if the child was going to die. Lucius was suddenly glad Draco didn't need to be babied in such a way. He wasn't sure he could take much more of Sprout's loud hissing sh's as she hushed her student.

Lucius hesitated, a large shadow passing to his right. He looked but saw nothing. Kenny tugged on his sleeve, whimpering something he couldn't understand, and Lucius sighed. He paddled forward another few paces. They were angling up as they went, and Lucius was sure he was just beginning to see light ahead of them.

He stopped at the muffled scream behind him, half-turning at another more frantic tug at his sleeve, and Kenny was really whimpering something now. Severus' voice yelled something, but Lucius couldn't understand him through the bubblehead charm.

Beth, who still had her arms tight around Severus, had her mouth wide open, her scream uninterrupted as she pointed one chubby eleven-year-old finger off the side, and Lucius saw the shadow move this time.

The Giant Squid was bigger than he had ever known it was. Its tentacles were easily as big as one of the larger trees in the Forbidden Forest, it's body about the same size. One giant eye blinked at them as it passed, one of the larger tentacles swooping right over their head.

Kenny clutched at him harder, burying his face in Lucius' robes, and Lucius figured now was a good a time to start swimming as any. The Giant Squid wasn't supposed to be particularly dangerous—out of water. But that didn't mean Lucius wanted to test the theory. He kicked up, propelling himself toward where he'd thought he'd started to see light. Sprout was right behind him, her student still clutching at her.

He looked back for Severus to see Beth kicking and screaming silently, struggling in his arms, making it impossible for him to start moving. Lucius called out, his voice getting lost in the water, and he could see the Giant Squid start moving toward Severus again, its tentacles propelling it faster than should have been possible.

The last thing he was able to make out was the Squid's tentacles wrapping around them before the giant cloud of black ink surrounded Severus, Beth, and the Squid, and Lucius could feel the cold acid feel of ink even from where he was hovering.

"No!" he cried out. He peeled Kenny off him, handing the child off to Sprout and point up, and then he was swimming frantically back down toward Severus.

* * *

“Severus taught you well,” Lupin said, his eyes on Harry. "You caught on almost immediately, didn't you?"

“I still don’t understand,” Draco answered before Harry could, sure he wouldn’t exactly say anything helpful. “How did you know? You always said we couldn’t trust him.”

Lupin was only holding him by his shoulder now. He'd used magic to tie Draco's hands together behind his back, the robes coarse as they rubbed his wrists together. Harry was walked a little to the side, a little in front. He could still see them but was in plain view of Lupin, and Draco could tell from the set of his shoulders that he was panicking.

“And you should have listened,” Harry snapped.

“As if I’m the untrustworthy one,” Lupin answered, voice tight with annoyance. And he didn’t _sound_ evil. He’d never sounded evil.

 “I don’t know what Lupin told you about that year, but I doubt he told you the full story,” Harry said, his eyes cast on Lupin, his voice tight. “Not if he wanted you to trust him.”

“Just tell me what happened,” Draco said, and Harry sighed.

“Lupin was… He was… different. That was the year Severus and I had a falling out, and Lupin made me feel as if everything was _normal._ As if I was normal. In a way that even Severus didn’t do, because it wasn’t _true_ ,” Harry paused, his words low and bitter, and Draco couldn’t stop himself from staring. “And I believed him. He talked about my parents and how they were friends, and he talked about his experiences, and the whole time he was lying.”

“I never lied-,” Lupin snapped.

“You lied the whole time,” Harry snapped back. “You only ever helped me because you needed me for Ron and for Pettigrew.”

“What are you talking about?” Draco answered.

“Lupin didn’t just not tell me about Sirius Black,” Harry said, and Lupin stared back at him, cold and angry and bitter. “He didn’t just not tell me he was a werewolf. He wormed his way into my trust, and he did whatever he had to, said whatever he had to, until I was willing to follow him straight to Black. He looked me in the eyes, and he lied to me. Over and over. He wasn’t protecting anyone but Black.”

Draco blinked hard, the terrible truth of it burning in his stomach, making his throat itch. As much as he could understand, as much as he thought he could see exactly what Lupin had been thinking, the terrible idea of living without his mate clouding his vision, nothing excused what he had done to Harry.

Harry. Who Draco loved. Harry. Who was Draco’s mate.

“How could you do that?” Draco muttered, and even he could hear how feral he sounded. Lupin only tightened his grip on Draco’s shoulder.

“Sirius was my mate,” Lupin answered, and he too sounded animalistic, mad, and Draco wondered how he had missed the undercurrent of insanity in his voice all this time.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t hate you for what you did,” Harry said. “That doesn’t mean you weren’t wrong.”

“Like how you just letting Sirius die was wrong?” Lupin answered, his voice dangerous close to a snarl, and Draco could feel claws digging into his neck.

“And how does that excuse this?” Draco snapped at him, watching as Lupin’s eyes widened as he stared back at Draco with a look too close to remorse to be comfortable. They were almost to the entry hall, and he could just barely smell the smoke of the Fiendfire; he could hear it crackling behind them, though he was sure they were in no danger from it anymore.

“Draco,” Lupin said, his voice suddenly tired and full of remorse as he turned to Draco. “You have to understand." And he sounded just like the man who had offered to help Draco, who had stood in the woods and told him his story. "I never really wanted to involve you, Draco. I would never have exposed your secret the way Nott did. Still, I was extremely displeased to hear that you were mated to Harry."

"Don't call me that!" Harry snapped, his green eyes flashing, but Lupin just gave him a cold look.

"Why would you care about me?" Draco asked, and he felt cold all over. He had trusted Lupin. He had ignored Harry's warnings, and he had trusted Lupin. A man who had hurt Harry for nothing but his own gain, and now, they were being marched out of Hogwarts and down to Voldemort.

"Because I understand what you're going through," Lupin told him, still sounding soft and tired and understanding, and if Draco had had his wand, he would have cursed him. "No one should suffer through the transformation alone."

"He wasn't alone," Harry muttered.

"Yes," Lupin answered, and there was a cold brush of darkness in his voice now. Something Draco had never heard before. Something he was sure Lupin had kept bottled up. "The company of Harry Potter. How very fortunate Draco must have been."

"I was," Draco said, and Harry's eyes flicked toward him and then away, too fast for him to read the expression. Lupin just shook his head.

"To be mated to Harry Potter. I pity you," he said, the same pity in his voice as when he'd first told Draco they were mated. And Draco suddenly understood why. He'd thought it had just been for Draco, because Draco didn't want to accept it, but it had been because  _Harry_ was his mate, because Lupin didn't think Harry could  _be_ a good mate.

"You shouldn't," Draco snapped, and his words seemed to snap something in Harry. Harry, who was suddenly turning, facing Lupin with desperation shining in his eyes. He had no wand in his hand, and Draco could tell he had no plan, but he was standing there blocking the corridor.

"Let him go, Lupin," Harry said, his voice horribly close to pleading. "Please, just… Voldemort doesn't want him, please. You don't have to do this. Just let him go, and I'll-."

"You'll what?" Lupin interrupted, his voice full of anger and blame and madness. "You'll actually do something to save him, will you?" Lupin shook Draco hard enough to make his teeth rattle. Harry just stared back at him, his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head, and it was painfully obviously he didn't have any idea what Lupin was talking about.

But Draco did.

Their conversation in the woods came back clear as day, the way Lupin had looked horribly bitter for just a second, and Draco had dismissed it, because he hadn't understood. The way Lupin had looked him in the eyes and asked if there was anything he wouldn't do for his mate, and Draco was suddenly realizing that _this_ was what he was talking about.

"You can’t blame Harry for Sirius' death," Draco said, his voice slow, angry.

"It was his  _fault_ ," Lupin snapped. "Sirius went off on a hero’s mission to go save Harry Potter, and when Sirius needed help, Harry just watched while Bellatrix Lestrange killed him."

"There was nothing I could have done," Harry whispered, his green eyes wide, desperate, flicking to Draco, back to Lupin and then locking on Draco's face.

"And if there had been, would you have done it?" Lupin asked. He was baring his teeth now, looking as if he was about to lunge forward and rip into Harry, and Draco couldn't hold in the growl that startled low in his throat. Lupin ignored him. "You always hated Sirius. You always blamed him, but he died for you, and you treated him like scum!"

"Because he  _was!"_ Harry snapped back, finally losing it.

And Draco cried out, a horrible sound that was half between a whine and a growl as Lupin lunged and both he and Harry fell to the ground. Draco took a step forward as they rolled, and he heard Harry's sharp shout of pain, but his hands were tied behind him, and he didn't have a wand. He struggled against the ropes, pulling uselessly.

" _Stupefy!"_ a new voice called, and Lupin sagged against the ground, leaving Harry panting and gasping and looking up at him as Luna and Blaise approach them.

"Are you alright?" Blaise asked, his eyes wide as he looked at Draco. Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Harry was suddenly on him, his arms wrapped around Draco's shoulders, holding on for dear life, gasping in his neck as if he couldn't breathe.

Draco flexed his arms, wishing he could hold Harry and was surprised when the roped came undone. Luna winked at him, twirling her wand. He sighed into Harry's hair, drawing him close as he eyed Lupin's unconscious body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Lupin was the badguy all along??? Kudos to Hikkira, who I'm pretty sure knew Lupin was up to something this whole time.  
> Thanks for reading and your lovely comments!


	24. Learning to Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're at the end, everyone. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you all for reading along with me. 
> 
> I have decided that there will be a third installment, though it will be only about 10 chapter longs, so significantly shorter. I've already begun writing, so if there's anything you're curious about or want to see, now's the time to let me know! It will be titled These Bare Eyes and posted after a 2 week Hiatus on September 30th.

The Giant Squid had one tentacle wrapped around Severus' arm, the water dark around him as its ink floated. He tightened his left arm around the Slytherin first year, twisting his right wrist as he tried to get his wand in a position where he could actually hit the Giant Squid.

It tightened its hold on him, making it impossible to do anything but try and hold onto his wand. He watched as another tentacle swept toward his body, and he could just see the first year against his chest's mouth opening, his scream muffled by the bubblehead charm around his head.

Severus tried to back pedal, to back away, but the Squid was already there, its tentacle connecting with him and sending both him and the first year back in the water several paces. He felt the sickening plunge in his stomach as his bubblehead charm popped, and he could see the first year's bubble had done the same.

He stared across at the Giant Squid, its red eye blinking at him slowly. And it took Severus a second too long to realize the strange golden piece of metal floating in the water between them was actually the locket Horcrux that had been around his neck. The Squid must have somehow knocked it lose.

Severus promptly held his breath, his grip tightening around the first year as he tried to kick his feet toward the locket. But the Squid was there first, its tentacle coiling around the locket, twisted and twining and then squeezing, and Severus watched as the metal seemed to give out from under the Giant Squid's tentacle, the crack strangely loud in the water. Then the Squid was turning, speeding away from Severus and taking the dying screams of the Horcrux with it.

He blinked once, feeling his lungs begin to burn as the first year clung to him. Then there was a hand on his shoulder, and his bubblehead charm was being replaced, Lucius' face in front of him, blonde braid floating in the water around him.

It didn't take much longer to reach the surface after that, Squid and Horcrux free. They collapsed onto the Lakeside, the first year Slytherin sprawled between them, shaking and crying and muttering as Lucius stroked down her back soothingly. Sprout was there in the next second, casting a drying spell on them and yanking the Slytherin up toward her as Severus exchanged a look with Lucius.

"Did the Giant Squid just destroy a Horcrux?" he asked quietly, knowing Sprout was too busy looking after the three students to be listening.

"It seemed like it," Lucius answered, shaking his head, and Severus wanted to laugh at the absolute absurdity of it all.

"If only we'd known sooner," he said, and Lucius let out a strained chuckle, quickly covering his mouth and looking over at Severus with wide eyes. And then Severus was laughing at his expression and the situation and the idea that they had somehow survived, but it didn't matter. Not really, because they weren't done yet.

"Merlin," Lucius groaned, and they were suddenly kissed, Lucius' forehead against his, and Severus sighed against his mouth.

"Oh my!" Sprout almost yelled; Lucius pulled away to glare at her, but she wasn't looking at them at all. She was looking at the Dark Mark that was slowly uncoiling itself over Hogwarts castle.

"Voldemort," Severus whispered, and then he was gasping, clutching his forearm as the burning pain filled the dark mark on his arm, looking into Lucius' eyes as the same realization filled him.

"Draco," Lucius said, and Severus was sure he'd ever heard him sound so scared before.

"Harry," Severus answered.

* * *

They were standing in the entry hall, the wards down, knowing Hogwarts had been infiltrated, and Harry was allowing himself to have a nervous breakdown. Really, it was his own fault they were caught by surprise. He was half-collapsed against Draco, his face buried in his neck, telling himself he'd pull away in just another second and feeling much too comforted with the way Draco was running his hands down his back.

Blaise was the first to spot him. Harry could tell by his muffled yell, and then Luna was shouting an answering spell, and Harry was turning too slow, Voldemort's snakelike face smiling coldly at them. Blaise and Luna had both been disarmed, their wands in the hands of two Death Eaters standing just to the right of Voldemort. They looked like twins; the same pointed thin features and blonde hair as they stared back.

Harry glanced down at where Lupin was lying unconscious between them and the Death Eaters. He had taken his wand when they'd started heading down, saying something about how he didn't trust Harry even with Draco in his grip. Harry was pretty sure he hadn't taken Draco's though, which didn't exactly make him feel any better. He preferred Voldemort's attention to be on him rather than Draco.

"Two blood traitors, a dog, and Harry Potter," Voldemort said, and Harry could hear the anger behind the words. "What an interesting find."

"Stay away from us," Harry answered, and he could feel his body trembling. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He was supposed to have time to find Nagini. She was supposed to be dead, and he was supposed to be able to kill Voldemort when they saw each other again.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

"Nagini," Voldemort's said slowly, his narrowed snake eyes sliding from Harry to Blaise and Luna with some strange expression between a smile and a grimace, and Harry couldn't understand the parseltongue that was hissed out of Voldemort's mouth, but he recognized the word  _kill._

"No," Harry cried out, and Draco was thrusting his wand, but the fire from his spell rebounded off Nagini, and she was lunging into the space between her and Blaise, sending him half-way to the ground under the giant snake before Luna kicked Nagini, dragging Blaise by his arm, and they were running.

Harry could hear their footsteps echoing down the corridor even as he turned back toward Voldemort just in time to catch the end of the  _crucio_ aimed at Draco, and somehow, he just managed to step in front of him, ignoring Draco's shouted protest in favor of screaming.

And it wasn't that he'd never felt the  _cruciatious_ before, but he'd never felt it while being terrified. While knowing he was just a wand tip away from dying, and that there was nothing he could do about it, and actually  _caring_  even though he’d done everything he could to convince himself he didn't—wouldn't care.

And then the spell was ending, Harry gasping and trembling against the floor. He caught a single glance of Draco being held back by one of the Death Eater twins, and then Voldemort was slashing his wand to the side, a long gash of pain blossoming across Harry's chest, then another, and he was screaming again as another  _Cruciatus_ was cast.

It seemed to go on forever, his back arching off the ground, his throat coming away raw, and he could feel the terror shoving its way through his mind in a way he hadn't felt since Draco had looked him in the eyes and told him he loved him. And when Voldemort ended the spell, he was standing right above Harry, his wand almost right in Harry's face.

And Harry suddenly knew this was it. Voldemort wasn't going to play with him, wasn't going to give him a chance to get out. No more chances. He wouldn't be returning this time around.

"Ready to die, Harry Potter?"

Harry just stared back at him, because no. No, he wasn't. And he should have been. He'd been preparing himself for this, to be able to look Voldemort in the eyes and know he was going to die, but he was still terrified.

He didn't want to die, and he didn't know how to stop it.

* * *

 

Blaise almost tripped again, Luna's hand around his wrist keeping him from falling, and they were running again, Voldemort's giant snake right on their heels. Neither of them had their wands, and based on what had happened with Draco's spell, Blaise wasn't sure that even if they did, it would matter.

"We won't…" Luna wheezed in time with him. "Be able to… much further… Fire." Blaise knew she was right; he could already see the smoke in the air, hear the roars of creatures calling from the Fiendfire, his already battered lungs protesting against both the smoke and his intense usage.

They turned another corner, and Blaise had to stop abruptly as the fire was suddenly right in front of them, a lion snarling and reaching out for him. He almost tripped over his own feet, taking Luna with him to the ground. The snake lunged at them, and Blaise rolled, Luna letting out a huff as he was suddenly on top of her.

And the snake tumbled over itself, skidding toward the fire, stopping maybe a foot away. Blaise kicked out, his left foot connecting with the giant snake's body, and both him and Luna watched as the snake went into the fire, the lion consuming her. A loud scream sounded around them, making Blaise cover his ear as the snake went up in smoke.

* * *

Lucius was running like he hadn't since he was in school, his braid flying behind with Severus right in front him. They'd left Sprout by the lake with the students, heading up to the castle alone. There was smoke rising from the first few floors of the castle, a thin brown smoke seeping from the windows everywhere above that, and they could see Death Eaters milling around the grounds.

Lucius snapped his wand in the direction of Yaxley, who was just turning toward him and watched as the man collapsed. He heard Severus' voice echoing him just ahead, and Lucius pushed himself to run even faster, trying to catch up before Severus got too far.

They were maybe another yard from the entrance to the castle, one Death Eater with his hood drawn up standing in the way. Severus flicked his wand, and the Death Eater collapsed. Then he was sweeping into the entry hall, Lucius right behind him, and they both froze at what they saw.

Voldemort was standing above Harry, his wand pointed into his face. Harry was panting and gasping, his eyes glazed as if he were just coming out of the _Cruciatus_ curse, his chest covered in blood. The Carrow twins were standing right there, smiling coldly. Alecto had Draco in her arms, holding him back even as he struggled and cried out.

And Harry looked terrified. Lucius was sure he'd never seen him look like that.

Severus yelled, his wand slashing out, and Alecto froze, long slashes appearing on her skin even as she fell to the ground, leaving Draco turning to stare at them. Amycus Carrow turned toward them, his eyes blazing, and Lucius just managed to catch his spell with a hasty shield, and Severus was gliding toward Voldemort, his wand outstretched, Voldemort staring back at him with hate filled snake eyes.

* * *

 

Harry flinched as Severus' voice filled the hall, and then Voldemort was turning toward him—away from Harry, and Harry was reacting before he thought about what he was doing. He lunged toward Lupin's unconscious body, tugging his wand out of Lupin's robes and pointing it.

Severus flicked his own wand, Voldemort moving to the side just in time to send his killing curse into the ground. Harry rose to his feet, his wand pointing at Voldemort's back, watching his spell catch on Voldemort's shield. Then it was Severus' spell that was falling against Voldemort's shield, and then Lucius was suddenly there, his blonde hair flashing as he pointed his wand at Voldemort, Draco right behind him.

And Voldemort stared at the four of them, his snake eyes red and wide, and Harry could tell by the way he shifted his feet he was about to try and run, and Harry couldn't- he  _couldn't_ let him. He couldn't keep being afraid of him. He lifted his wand, feeling his hand tremble even as he did. He'd never cast a killing curse, never wanted to. The idea was almost funny given how much he hated people.

"Harry, don't," Draco's voice sounded, croaking across the space between them, and Harry couldn't stop himself from looking over at him, staring into his silver-grey eyes that were so full of pain as he stood with his wand outstretched. "Don't," Draco whispered. Lucius flicked his wand, Voldemort reacting too slow to stop him, distracted by Harry and Draco.

" _Duro_ ," he whispered, and they watched as Voldemort's skin hardened to stone before them.

" _Confringo_ ," Severus answered, and Voldemort exploded to pieces, littering the stone floor as Harry stared with wide eyes.

And there was no stopping the relief that surged through his body as he raised his eyes back toward Draco’s.

* * *

 

Even with the wounds gone thanks to Severus' wand work, Harry was still covered in blood, trembling as Draco led him into his room. After Voldemort had died, Severus had led Harry outside, closing the gashes across his chest and checking him for other wounds while Lucius and Draco had moved to put out the Fiendfire.

It had taken them most of the day to put them out on the first few floors, finding Blaise and Luna and hearing their story as they did. Draco wasn't actually very surprised, considering Voldemort had died, and he would only have done that if Nagini had been destroyed.

By the time they'd gotten back from extinguishing the Fiendfire, the ministry had already arrived. They arrested both Lupin and Nott without comment, the ministry casting an annoyed glance toward Severus before walking away.

Harry and Severus had already let the teachers and students out of their rooms, herding them into the Great Hall. And with the help of the staff, it was easy to clear some kind of mist from the upper halls and stopped the flooding that was apparently happening in the basement and Dungeons.

And Draco hadn't seen Harry until he'd was leaning against the wall in the entry hall, covered in blood with his hands over his face as he shook like a leaf. And Draco couldn't believe he'd left Harry alone when he should have known better.

He'd taken Harry's hands, ignoring his flinch when Draco had pulled them away from his face, and Harry seemed halfway to being catatonic as Draco took him downstairs to his private room. They couldn't go back to Harry's since it had been ruined in the Fiendfire, and Harry had just stared at him as they stepped over the puddles.

"You're covered in blood," Draco whispered, setting Harry gently on the toilet seat, and Harry's eyes finally flicked, his head tilting to look up at Draco's face. He didn't say anything. Draco bit his lip, holding his worry inside as he started the bath, letting the water turn hot as it collected in the bottom of the tub.

"Let's get you out of those clothes," he murmured, pulling Harry's tattered pajama shirt over his head carefully, making sure it didn’t tangle over his hands. He belatedly realized they were both still only dressed in their sleeping shirts and hastily pulled on trousers. Draco wasn't even wearing his belt and neither of them had on their robes. They'd run out of their room so fast when they'd heard the sirens.

Harry let him pull his clothes off, lifting his hips when Draco pressed on them to pull his trousers and pants off before

letting Draco pull him up and set him in the half-full bath. He was still shaking, shivering, and Draco didn't know if it was cold, shock, or the _Cruciatus_  that Voldemort had cast on him.

"Did Severus give you anything for the pain?" Draco asked, splashing water across his chest, down his legs, washing the blood off as best as he could.

"Yes," Harry answered, and Draco was almost surprised when Harry spoke, though he should have known that Harry wasn't about to break now. Harry had his head facing forward, his voice a whisper of a breath, and he could almost have been talking to the shower wall. "He told me to rest, but my room was destroyed, and then I couldn't find you."

And Draco almost winced. He should have _known_ better.

"Are you cold?" he asked, running a hand down Harry's back. Most of the blood was down the drain, the warm water up to Harry's chest, but he was still trembling against his hands.

"What?" Harry answered, his voice distracted, faint.

"You're shaking," Draco told him.

"Oh," Harry said, and he paused, turning toward Draco, staring with his green eyes half-confused and half-desperate and half-relieved, and somehow Draco just  _knew_ what he wanted without Harry having to say it.

He stepped over the edge of the tub, stepping into the warm water with his clothes still on and pulled Harry into his arms, ignoring how the water spilled over the side and splashed onto the floor. Harry relaxed against him with a sigh, leaning his head forward to rest against Draco's shoulder, his legs relaxing to wrap around Draco’s hips as he sat in his lap.

"I thought I was going to die," Harry muttered, his lips brushing against Draco's skin. "I thought…"

"I did too," Draco answered. "When Voldemort was torturing you-."

"No," Harry interrupted. "No, you don't understand. I was  _scared._  I was scared to die. I’m still scared."

"Harry-," Draco tried, but Harry was already talking over him again.

"I did everything to prepare myself," Harry said, and he sounded so frustrated, pressing his forehead against Draco's shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist, his hands clutching at Draco's pajama shirt, and Draco didn't understand what he was trying to say. "I was convinced I was ready to die if I needed to, but then Voldemort was there, and I was looking at him, and I couldn't stop thinking about you. About how-about how I didn't want to die, because I'd much rather live with you than die."

"And why is that a bad thing?" Draco asked, tightening his hold on Harry, and he couldn't help thinking about how Harry had walked straight into Voldemort's wand earlier in the year, how he had willingly died, not knowing he'd be able to come back. He couldn't help thinking about all the little things Harry had said and done that had drawn a picture of a lack of self-preservation, and Draco knew they  _should_ have talked about this sooner.

"Because I have no idea what to do now," Harry sighed. "I have no idea how to not be afraid of living."

"Then we'll figure it out together," Draco answered, and his tone had Harry tilted his head to the side, looking over at him. Draco stroked a hand down Harry's back, feeling Harry relax as he did.

"I think I'm in love with you," Harry told him, his bright green eyes worried and intense and innocent on Draco's face as he said it. As if he still expected Draco to run away screaming.

"You think?" Draco raised an eyebrow, and Harry shrugged at him.

"You know me," Harry answered, and Draco couldn't help but laugh, pressing his nose into Harry's hair.

"And I love you," he murmured, relishing in the way Harry shivered against him.

* * *

 

Blaise was standing on the steps leading to the grounds of Hogwarts. The sun was just beginning to set, and he knew curfew would be being enforced in a few minutes, though he had no idea if everyone would be sleeping in their dorms or the Great Hall that night.

Honestly, he didn't much care. He couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened. The castle nearly being destroyed; his mad dash through the first floor; almost being eaten by a giant snake. If these were the things Harry did all the time, Blaise didn't blame him for being an arse. Well, he didn't blame him as _much_.

It was an important distinction.

"Hello," a voice said, and he turned to see Luna Lovegood standing next to him, looking over at him with those clear blue eyes of hers. She always seemed to look straight through him, to see something he wasn't comfortable with her seeing.

"Hello," he answered.

"We were lucky," she told him, and it wasn't exactly the words he would have used, though he can't exactly argue with her. It wasn't like they'd died. And they'd come close.

"I suppose."

"You care for him," Luna said, and Blaise started, staring over at her. She was looking back at him, a small, sad, knowing smile. "Draco."

"I- How did you…"

"I know what it's like to care for someone who doesn't look at you the same way," Luna answered, still smiling over at him.

"Ginny Weasley," Blaise said, the realization coming quick and easy, and when had he been paying such close attention to Luna Lovegood? "I see the way you look at her." Luna just shrugged at him.

"She'll find someone better for her than me."

"How do you know there  _is_ someone better for her than you," Blaise asked.

"I don't know," Luna frowned. "But I can't very well go ruining her life and her relationships just because she's not with me, can I?" she asked, and Blaise suddenly realized they weren't talking about Ginny anymore. They had suddenly moved back to Draco and Harry, and how Blaise had hated Harry for no other reason than because he was with Draco.

"It hurts to see them together," he muttered.

"But you know Harry is good for Draco," Luna answered, her voice quiet, head tilted up to the sky.

"I know," he sighed, following her line of sight up to the stars.

* * *

 

Lucius thrust one more time before coming inside Severus with a loud groan. They were sprawled out on the bed, Severus under him, his hands clutching at the headboard as he tensed and followed Lucius over the edge, his cum spraying against both of their stomachs.

It was sometime past midnight now. McGonagall and Flitwick were on watch around the Great Hall, and Severus and Lucius could just  _relax_ for a few hours now.

Severus rolled to the side, sighing as Lucius cast the cleaning charm on them. They were both completely naked, basking in the bliss of post orgasm and post victory and post  _everything._  Severus ran his hand through Lucius' hair, catching in a tangle that halted the motion.

"You're pulling my hair," Lucius told him, trying and failing to sound annoyed.

"Go to sleep," Severus told him, and Lucius chuckled, low and deep and barely there between them. He rolled over, draping his arm across Severus stomach and laying his head across his chest.

"I love you," Lucius whispered as if it was a secret, and maybe it was, just for them to know. Severus found he was fine with that. It wasn't like they said the words often; they didn't need to.

"I love you," Severus whispered back. The words were burned into his skin, into his breath. He loved Lucius like he breathed; he didn't  _need_ to say it, and he didn't need to hear it to know it was true anymore.

* * *

 

The next morning when Lucius knocked on Draco's door, it took almost a full three minutes before it opened. Draco stared at him from the other side, looking somewhere between embarrassed and pleased and annoyed. Harry was still seated on the bed, his hair a mess with his glasses perched on the end of his nose, though he was at least dressed.

"Good morning," Lucius smiled thinly, looking a little too pleased with himself. Severus just rolled his eyes as he followed him into the room.

They sat in the small living area, Lucius sending tea flying around between them. Draco was sitting on the couch next to Harry, his arm brushing against Harry's every time they moved. The atmosphere was easy, light, and Severus had no idea when the last time it had been so easy to simply exist was.

"Hogwarts it almost back up and running again," Lucius said, taking a slow sip of tea for dramatic effect. "I suppose Lupin and Nott weren’t trying to cause an overabundance of damage.”

“There are quiet a lot of paintings on the first few floors that were destroyed,” Severus corrected, but Lucius just waved his hand.

"What happened to Lupin?" Draco asked, his gaze sharp, insistent.

"He's in Azkaban now," Severus answered. "Awaiting trial with the other Death Eaters.”

“Good,” Harry said, his voice dark, and Draco’s gaze swung around, locking onto him, and the understanding in his eyes was unnerving.

"Harry’s right," Draco muttered, his lips turning down in a frown. "He deserved what he got. He held a grudge against Harry for so long."

"People are like that for the people they love," Severus answered, thinking back to when he had first met Harry, when he had still mourned Lily and hated James and there had been no room for any kind of love in his heart. Lucius reached over, brushing a finger across the back of his hand. And it was enough to pull the melancholy, the thought of what might have been away.

“Nott, I believe is only on house arrest because he's so young,” Lucius said, turning the conversation away. “But I doubt the Wizengamot will rule in his favor."

“What about the ministry?” Harry asked. “They’re investigation into Draco?”

“I’m not sure,” Severus answered. “Official, they’d have to work very hard to convict someone who helped defeat Voldemort.”

“But it wouldn’t be impossible,” Lucius muttered, his grey eyes cast toward his tea.

“No,” Severus said.

“Whatever comes,” Draco answered, his hand wrapping around Harry's. And Harry lifted his gaze, dark green eyes locking onto Draco’s. “We’ll deal with it.”

“It couldn’t be much worse than Voldemort after all,” Lucius answered, and Severus glared at him.

“I still can’t believe he’s dead,” Harry said, his voice soft, eyes turning away from Draco to look over at Severus.

“He’s dead,” Severus answered, and he felt Lucius' arm settle around his shoulder as he said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for reading and I hope to see you on These Bare Eyes. 
> 
> If anyone is interested in Psychology or Author's Notes behind These Broken Moons and These Blooming Hearts:   
> Harry: Harry's character is based loosely on someone who has Borderline Personality Disorder. Now, I'm in no way saying that my depiction is completely accurate--nor is it meant to be-- or that the solution to everyone suffering from BPD is to find someone like Draco--which isn't even really Harry's answer. I'm only saying that a lot of his behaviors are based on symptoms of this disorder, such as dissociation feelings, intense and uncontrollable anger, chronic feelings of emptiness, impulsive behaviors, etc. 
> 
> Lucius: Lucius is meant to be read as a Demisexual character. He has sex with people other than Severus but he never actually enjoys it. In the scene where Severus is in control and the rimming occurs, you /can/ read it as Lucius likes to be dominated, however, in my mind it makes more sense that Lucius only likes /Severus/ to be in control, as he's has the opportunity in the past but never even remotely want to explore the possibility. However, as the reader, this is completely up to you to interpret. This is only my thought process. 
> 
> Luna and Blaise: I actually have absolutely no idea what Luna and Blaise are to each other. It's ambiguous on purpose. Sort of. They both have a similar experience of loving someone who doesn't love them back, so it's easy for them to understand each other as friends, but whether they grow to be more is completely up to you as the reader's interpretation. 
> 
> Again thanks for reading, and I hope you remotely enjoyed my thoughts. If you didn't read them, no worries, you're still awesomesauce!


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